Maybe there are days you have to meet yourself where you are.
Acknowledge the tears that float in your eyes as you pick up the pieces of flowers yet to bloom.
Gone to waste.
Pulled up enthusiastically by children.
Maybe you have to meet yourself there and realize the tears have come from things much deeper than the flowers pulled.
And closer to where you heart comes bare and your soul stings.
The tender place where words get stuck because your identity has been planted too close to the surface to survive without being shorn off and scarred in the process. The place where hugs and words just right make you melt over the edge and wish for bed and good dreams and chocolate.
Something to fill the holey places that scramble for attention and mattering.
Wherever words fall short and tears take their place.
Meet in the tears and wait for the real reason.
Choose a direction from there.
It might be to buy more plants.
It might be to put the cuttings in a jar of water and to hope for more roots.
It might be to wait for the current rootball in the ground still to sprout again and bear more fruit where it is.
When we feel uprooted and broken.
There are way to meet ourselves there in the dirt.
New plants, old plants, old roots, all combined could make something beautiful.