A LATE BLOOMER
I walk across campus and I feel like everyone is staring at me. I have lost most of my hair and the hair that I have left is white. Some of the other students come up to me and inquire as to which class I teach; I guess, just because you are mature in years, you are supposed to know everything, too. Their mouths drop, always, when I tell them that I am a student.
I awoke, one morning, and was looking out at the tree infront of my house. Suddenly, everything became clear to me about my situation.
That tree had been covered with flowers, about a month ago. When all of the flowers fell off, it looked like it had snowed. All of the spent blooms had blown away and the tree had started to sprout berries. But, there it was, a single late blossom. How majestic it seemed there, by itself. No single blossom had looked so radiant, when the tree had been covered with flowers.
Now, I have my reply to all of the inquiries at college, "I may be a little old, bud, but I'm a late bloomer!"