A small lovely tree grows outside — close, almost touching my office window. It affords me privacy and keeps me company whilst I write at the desk inside, below it. For a long time, the tree was dense — filled with delicate green leaves and big pink flowers in season. It provided a home for tiny chirping birds who went about their business flying from branch to branch and sitting on very small nests.
Over the years, the tree had thinned and flowers were a sometime, if ever, thing. Fewer birds still greeted me in the morning and at odd times during the day. But flowers hadn’t appeared for a while.
Coincidentally, I have been going through a difficult changing time in my life. Along with a devastating computer crash, I lost some friends and some work I loved. My two wise gurus consoled me with their usual good advice. “Look at it this way — the things that have closed for you are just making room for something wonderful that is about to happen. ”
The other day when I opened the shutters, one large pink flower in full bloom appeared, with its stem pointed straight at my window as if to greet me. I caught my breath and stood mesmerized at the beauty and proximity of the lone pink flower.
For seven days, the flower greeted me when I opened the shutters. I took it as a sign of encouragement, and I smiled.
On the eighth day, when I opened the shutters, the flower was wizened and its branch was turned to the side. My heart fell. Then my eyes caught an upper branch on which was a beautiful new pink flower in full bloom with its stem pointed directly at my window. Not to worry, it seemed to indicate. It was her time to go, but I am here for you.
Now, I’d like to tell you that on that very day a fairy godmother appeared, waving her magic wand. I got calls from various agents to write a film, a large sum of money appeared in my bank account from a recently deceased relative, and the man of my dreams appeared at my door riding a white horse.
But no such things happened. Instead, using my very own magic wand, I registered for several classes, joined some new clubs, found someone who could fix my computer and someone else who would help me turn my columns into a book. And, whaddya know, a man on a white bicycle stopped by. Most of all, I stopped worrying and feeling sad and started feeling good.
Just one thing still bothers me: What if the pink flowers stop blooming again?
By Ellen Van Houten is a Village resident. Contact her at ellenmay@gmail.com