Peonies

 

Like the multitudes of people who do not receive gifts often, I used to believe that I didn’t care about them. That it was not a ‘big deal’ for me. That was until I received a book from my then boyfriend. It was unexpected and perfect. Proof that I lingered in his mind in a significant way. I loved it. To paraphrase Oliver Twist, ‘I would indeed love some more’ of this gift receiving. The joy I felt surprised me. It reinforced a thing that was proving itself to be true again and again in my life. That you can never truly understand something until it happens to you. That true appreciation comes from experience. I started to understand why the girls would go crazy over what seemed like trifles from lovers on Instagram stories. About a year after that, an estranged acquaintance also sent me a book with the sweetest message. I was in a bad way (she didn’t know this) and some force compelled her to show me love at that time. That gesture was the gust of oxygen I needed to emerge from the abyss. I try to gift as much as I can nowadays because I understand the significance of it. Truly I’ve known nothing of this world, this life. A few years ago I also had no appreciation of the beauty that flowers held. That was until I saw the rose my mother had planted blooming in our yard. For a moment I was spellbound. My heart melted as I ran my fingers across its pale pink petals. How could something be so breath-taking? To think I used to declare boldly that I was not ‘that type of girl’. The kind to lose their mind over such stereotypically girly things. What foolishness. We lose out on so much because of closed-mindedness. My current wallpaper is a photograph of hot pink peonies. They are the most marvellous thing I’ve ever seen. I was quite sad before I came across that picture. Now my spirit is at ease. The power. I hope that life holds more beautiful discoveries for me.