Unknown

Written by my sister, Tara Woodard.

This field was a nice new home for her. Wide open space in the southern foothills.. She could always feel a warm breeze against her bright orange petals as she swayed gently, her long stem leaning this way or that. The days were mild, and rain was plenty and soft. She had bloomed many times before, but this was the best place she had ever existed.

She had a brilliant view as she towered above a sea of violets, sprawling far in all directions. She marveled at the beauty for a time, and soon began to wonder why she was here.. Her tall, thick stem and bright orange face must be such a harsh sight, a blemish to the majesty of royal purple surrounding her. The were in such pleasant congruence, and then here she stood so different. What was her place in this pattern? She could not see it.

The night fell upon the meadow, and she always took pleasure in this time now. The moonlight shone upon the sea of violets and turned them grey, they were silent. She could imagine that among them might be varied shades of color, with thick stems or thin, tall as she, or maybe low and hidden beneath. She was startled suddenly from her dreams by the nightbird, he had landed next to her, silencing the cricket he now had in his beak. As he resumed his flight, she calmed and dreamed herself to sleep.

The early dawn was peaceful. She was still bathed in dew and she loved the sparkle of the sun off the droplets. The sea was made of diamonds for just this short time, every morning and she was consumed by the scene. It was almost noon when her mind began to tap at her again.. Why am I alone?

Too tall was she to be in communion with the violets, though she longed for love. They all had each other, and were happy, and she supposed that would be enough. She could observe the beauty they shared and it would have to be enough. But how she wished to share her perspective, here above the sea. As night fell again on the meadow, she hoped and wished, and slept with dreams of love.

She awoke with the sun to the diamonds of dew, and she remembered fondly her dreams. She felt strong and full and hopeful, feeling so much.. And it felt new. Something was new and it was wonderful. There was a sense of connection, a new energy begging for her attention. Just where the nightbird had stood two nights before, there grew a stalk. A thick stem, standing near as tall as she, and where the bud was opening she saw a gleam of orange.

Joy filled her every inch of being, she felt certain she would wilt of excitement. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the flower opened slowly more and more, and she spent all morning watching his birth, willing him the warmest welcome to the world. His presence grew stronger with every building moment, and at last his orange face beamed out in the afternoon sun. In full bloom, he greeted her with likeness of her own different face. And he and she were different together, and now one was two. And the violet sea was just a little smaller.