I had wanted perky tulips;
the kind that stand upright like sentinels announcing spring. What I got was a limp, gangly mop with arms entangled and sagging into everything nearby. I kept expecting my bouquet to improve with time as stems took on water and ideally, more strength. It did not. Soon it became clear that nothing was going to change; I was both disappointed and frustrated.
Then the gift appeared.
Once I accepted the imperfect bouquet as it was and stopped wishing it was something different, I started taking in its messy beauty – not the kind I had hoped for, but a different presence that held its own unique charm. In the end, I did not get what I wanted,
but I received what I needed.
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