The Wilted Flower

image

It was a lovely pleasant evening. The sky was smudged with orange color as if she was shying. My daughter and I decided to spend the beautiful evening by stalling around our garden which my significant better half and I nurtured since the day we got married. Whilst we were having our little walk, my daughter’s eyes was caught by a beautiful flower.

 

“Mamma “ called out my lovely little daughter of eight. “Yes darling” I say. “Why is this flower so different and colorless than the others?” asked the inquisitive daughter with her eyes fixed on the rose. Her face, I must say carried a deep expression of sorrow. “It is a pretty little being. It is like a tiara on a plant that holds high without any obligations” further she adds.

For a while I was taken aback with the choice of words she’d used. Those words and thoughts are oblivious to any eight year old. I observed my daughter keenly. She was deeply moved by the flower’s state and was caressing the wilted flower with her soft little fingers. She later dug a portion of soil. Before burying the wilted flower, she kissed it with her pink baby lips and to what I saw, she murmured something like this “you were and always be one of the most beautiful being on this earth.”

“Baby” I called her out. “Come here, I’ll tell you something.” We advanced towards the gazebo which is an eye candy for our neighbors and the guests who visit us. “We all have a purpose when we are living in this beautiful planet and so did that flower” I say as we sit on a wooden swing hung in the gazebo. “What is the purpose mamma?” my daughter asks resting her head on my bosom. “The flower was born so that she could bring smile on everybody’s face including yours. While it was alive, she satiated the butterflies and honey bees thirst who could suck its nectar till their hearts were content. Once she bore none she breathes her last.” I say as we sway on the swing.

“Oh mamma, that’s such a disheartening purpose, it always gave everyone. Why don’t reciprocate with the same gratitude?” asked my daughter holding me tight. “Who says nobody gives her happiness! You just helped her rest in peace. She’d be happy that someone just cared for her after she breathed her last you know.” I replied.

“Really?” asked my daughter looking at me with her buttoned eyes full of twinkles. “Yes” I say with a big bear mummy hug. “Then this shall be the purpose of my life.  I will spread happiness to those who spread happiness “said the little one hugging me even tighter and we swung till we say the sun blushing down the horizon.

3 opinions on “The Wilted Flower”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *