Going to Seed

I’ve had a lot to think about, these past two months. Last night was the first time I even so much as poised my fingers over the keyboard with a blank and blinking screen in front of me. I’ve spent a lot of time with a man, with New Guy, negotiating, laughing, crying, talking, reading, loving. He dumped me every week, sometimes every day, but such is life with such a man. The benefits outweighed the blunders until one day, they didn’t.

I haven’t seen him for two weeks now, haven’t even spoken to him for two days, but I woke up happy and in love with life this morning, so I know that it’s all good, all the way it’s supposed to be. A part of me hoped to prolong things past the single woman’s nightmare known as Valentine’s Day, but I realized something this morning as I pondered my problem. It’s just another day. I’ve been alone on Valentine’s Day for nine years now.

I’m used to it.

Of particular interest to me the past two weeks post romance has been the romances of my two best girl friends. Both of them have new relationships, ones that tempt them across rocky beds of potential pain. Neither relationship is smooth and unmarred. The similarity I see, however, is that in both cases, their love interest calls them every day, needs the comfort of their voice to get them through. I’ve told them both to hold on, to stick it out, to wade through the river because as long as the communication flow is strong, there is growth.

Love is a seed, hard on the outside, magic within its depths. If the seed is planted in fertile soil, uncrowded by past or competing relationships, neither over fed with attention, nor malnourished by neglect, if it is watered with more tears of joy than sorrow, it will grow.

It will grow, if given time.

Love is not a bouquet, bursting bright with blooms. Love is a seed, compact within itself. It takes time for the seedling to emerge, for the stem to gather steam, for the buds to form. Nothing teaches patience like a budding dahlia. It takes the sunshine of time to strengthen the stem, to allow it the chance to support the heady weight of a full bloom. If the blossom is forced before the stem is sturdy, it bows its head in sadness and breaks.

Even if the blossom breaks, even if cut down to the stem, there is hope. Love is openly resourceful. Where the break occurs, she sends her energy. While she waits, she works on roots, on ways to sustain herself during the dark times. Suddenly, within hours, days, new buds appear. Magically. And the flower tries again.

Both of my friends are troubled during this time with their lovers right now, this time when the course is rocky and no visible green growth appears. I’ve told them both, do not despair. Roots need time to grow as well, and all of that growth is under the surface. Be patient. You’re growing roots, and roots are integral to a sturdy stem.

As for me, I’m surveying the landscape. I’m waiting for the ice to melt, the ground to thaw. I’m waiting to applaud the progress of the 200 tulips I planted last fall. Imagining their beauty leaves me breathless with anticipation. Now is not the time for me to plant seeds of any sort. My heart is frozen, in a way, frozen perhaps for the first time in my life. I am contemplating quiet, knowing that spring will come and with it, the rushing water of the thaw, but until then, there are audits to be done. There are basketball games for my thirteen year old shining star. There are movies to watch in anticipation of February 22nd. There is much to do, much to get done.

There is still hope….and still time….still plenty of fertile ground….and dozens of seeds, hidden in paper packets, waiting to be planted.