OrchidsMy usual morning fog was abruptly burned away today.
No wall of protection from my first cup of coffee when I read the news.
I'd not been invited.
They'd had a family gathering without mentioning it to me.
Facebook. I found out on Facebook.
As the coffee begins to brew, I start my daily routine.
Put away the dishes - did they discuss inviting me?
Sweep up the floor - did they forget to invite me?
Start a load of dark clothes- did they decide not to invite me?
Pour my coffee and sip - do they know anything about my life? About me?
As I sip, I pick up the tin pig watering can and fill it with water and Orchid food.
The six smooth streams of water pour from the snout to the Orchids in their pots.
I can feel their gratitude, I can imagine their roots being quenched.
The blooms and buds on the stalks quiver as the water is poured over the leaves.
My tears release as I take in the beauty (and think of my family).
Orchids. My relationship with them works.
I water and fertilize them when I am not too busy,
Too busy with work, and making ends meet, and Molly.
My Orchids don't cry and call me selfish when I state the obvious.
They don't withhold their blooms because I disappoint them.
Oh, the Orchids (and my family) know a different side of this story.
There is validity (in their words) that they are not my first priority.
Why can't I commit to water (call or visit) them on a regular basis?
Could I just quit blaming them for not blooming (being there) for me every day?
Would it kill me to act like the Orchids (my family) were always perfect?
The last sip of coffee reminds me it's time to get busy.
I put the empty pig on the shelf until I will fill it again to quench the Orchids' thirst.
Will that be next Friday? Ten days from now? Tomorrow?
It will be when I can not resist the beckoning of their blooms.
My family could learn a lot from my Orchids. Me too.