May, Myself, and I – Sunflowers, Storms

I got pretty behind on this, but I’m determined to catch up. That being said, I don’t want to do four topics at once, so I’m just going to do two at a time for the next few days.

Sunflowers (May 11)

Sunflowers have never really been my favorite flower. I prefer things that are more delicate. As cliche as it is, I like roses best. Red ones, ones that haven’t bloomed quite yet so that I can watch them open up day by day.

I’ve only ever been given flowers a few times in my life. Once or twice for being in theater productions in high school. In my sophomore year I played one of the leads in that year’s play (I was never much a singer so musicals weren’t my forte, but I was alright at acting), and my entire family came to see. Not just my mom and dad and brother, who all came every year, but aunts and uncles, too. I got flowers then, I remember, and I was so excited. It felt so special. The flowers made me feel like I’d really achieved something.

The other time that I can remember getting flowers was for my 16th birthday. It is, apparently, a tradition in my family to give 16 red roses to a girl when she turns that age. I was ecstatic about receiving these flowers. I kept them for as long as possible, and when they started to die I removed the petals so that I could dry them and keep them. But I didn’t really know how to dry petals properly, and they got infested with bugs, which I am terrified of. So those petals were not kept.

I would love to get flowers now. For anything, or just because. But I don’t feel like I can ask for them, that would rather defeat the purpose. I love flowers because they seem so thoughtful. They’re utterly pointless, they’ll eventually die, and they have to be watered and cared for until they do die, but I would love to get flowers for my birthday or anniversary or valentine’s day. Most of all, though, I’d like to get them “just because,” because that “just because” is really “because I was thinking of you.”

Storms (May 12)

I adore storms. I love pouring rain and lightning and thunder claps (even though I’m also a little afraid of the noise). I love the sound of the rain pounding on the roof and the pavement outside. I love the fresh smell in the air and the feeling that everything – from mud on the car to the turmoil of a bad day – is being washed away.

It’s been a very rainy May here in Michigan so far (isn’t the saying supposed to be April showers?), and just the other day we had a huge storm. It was a perfect day, a perfect time for it, because Michael was home. In our new house we have a few windows that are under awnings large enough to keep out the rain, so we had those windows open to let in the smell and the sound of the rain. Michael and I curled up in bed and cuddled with our pets and just enjoyed the coziness.

In that moment, despite the tornado of depression and anxiety that has been causing destruction in my mind the last few weeks, I felt so at peace. I felt happy and safe and so, so fortunate. The storm gave me that moment.

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