blossom

The first ever houseplant in my first ever apartment, were calla lilies. The woman who gave them to me was moving away. She said just talk to them and they will thrive. There are very few things as strong, yet as beautiful and pure and bright as lilies. 
Roses are lost on me. I am a wild flower girl. I am delphiniums and daisies. I am milkweed for butterflies. I am dandelions from my son. I am lupine fields at sunset. I am wisteria, I am orchids and ferns and poppies on the railway track. I am cannas near the drain, from my childhood that my mother never let me have. I am ever ignored, forever scorned lantana. I am the same mother’s favorite bleeding heart. I was named after blossoms. And there’s something about this white calla lily that can stand up tall that makes me want to bloom too. It reminds me of someone who named me, someone who I used to “admire most” as a kid- the kind you write school essays about in elementary school.

Photo Credit Jim Chapman