Delicate flowers I can’t precisely recall the first time someone called me a delicate flower, but I suspect it was either When I refused to taste a hunk of tripe that smelled like a wet dog and looked like a tapeworm, which a dim sum companion was waving in my face, or
Another insightful post, Mari. Last fall, I was very fortunate that a neighbor from Eritrea responded to my bid for connection, and became my second newest friend. In time, Abeba explained how her family escaped their beloved country, because of the political regime there, which has been compared to that of North Korea. They each made their way to Canada, where most of her family now lives. Eventually she married an Eritrean friend of her brother, whose family escaped here to the Midwest USA. She and her husband have three children and just bought their first home. Abeba is one of the most resilient and kind people I've ever met. So many people would understandably have become hardened by the circumstances of her life. If it's true she's remained delicate, it is a wonderful triumph on her part. 🦋🧡🦋
Beautifully and thoughtfully written, Mari, this essay entertains and informs. Your posts always give us readers much to ponder. Thank you, darling daughter, for the post and for your kind comments about me. You always think the best of your parents, which shows a great deal about you.
What a beautiful metaphor. I especially liked the part about hothouse flowers actually being just as strong as cold weather ones, but just being forcibly taken out of their natural environment.
As always, you have provided much food for thought. (Corny…fertilizer for the mind!)
No one ever called me a wallflower, but I felt like one all through my teenage years. Being very tall and skinny did much to make me feel that way. Today that is just a memory, not a reality.
Your mom ….so thankful for humans like her. Jesus said “blessed are the meek, they will inherit the earth” meekness is strength under power… oh how I wish the world was full of more people like your mother. Having a special needs son, I am eternally grateful for the love and patience of the men and women that helped my Jack along the way.
Another great read from you this morning. Makes me reflect and be so thankful.
Another insightful post, Mari. Last fall, I was very fortunate that a neighbor from Eritrea responded to my bid for connection, and became my second newest friend. In time, Abeba explained how her family escaped their beloved country, because of the political regime there, which has been compared to that of North Korea. They each made their way to Canada, where most of her family now lives. Eventually she married an Eritrean friend of her brother, whose family escaped here to the Midwest USA. She and her husband have three children and just bought their first home. Abeba is one of the most resilient and kind people I've ever met. So many people would understandably have become hardened by the circumstances of her life. If it's true she's remained delicate, it is a wonderful triumph on her part. 🦋🧡🦋
Beautifully and thoughtfully written, Mari, this essay entertains and informs. Your posts always give us readers much to ponder. Thank you, darling daughter, for the post and for your kind comments about me. You always think the best of your parents, which shows a great deal about you.
I am a weed. I like being an intrepid weed. Thank you for reminding me of my important role in life. Your writing is stupendous.
What a beautiful metaphor. I especially liked the part about hothouse flowers actually being just as strong as cold weather ones, but just being forcibly taken out of their natural environment.
As always, you have provided much food for thought. (Corny…fertilizer for the mind!)
No one ever called me a wallflower, but I felt like one all through my teenage years. Being very tall and skinny did much to make me feel that way. Today that is just a memory, not a reality.
Thank you. Mari, for another good read.
Your mom ….so thankful for humans like her. Jesus said “blessed are the meek, they will inherit the earth” meekness is strength under power… oh how I wish the world was full of more people like your mother. Having a special needs son, I am eternally grateful for the love and patience of the men and women that helped my Jack along the way.
Another great read from you this morning. Makes me reflect and be so thankful.