Those Little Things
I sit staring at this raw lilac beauty , delighted at how it was juxtaposed among dead twigs and other unnamed wild plants, yet remaining resplendent even under the twilight streaks. Little things you won’t really notice.
“What are you looking at? “, he asks, finding nothing significant where my eyes are fixed.
“Those flowers”, I say. “ I like those flowers”!
“Better than the imported flowers you’re arranging?”
“Not really, but I really like them”
Without a word, he steps out of the parked car we are in and goes to pick not one , but three of them, unmindful of staring eyes, of the prickly twigs, of the shaky rocks he steps on in reaching for them.
“Here. Let’s go. The Mass is about to begin”.
After, I see the flimsy petals on the car seat lifeless, as expected. Worthless as they seem, they define clearly the language of love expressed by the giver.
Written by Lydia Villacrusis