Waiting

Some of my flowers are finally starting to thrive now that the weather has turned spring-like again and April is bringing its share of showers. Madeline, her baby doll and pint-sized stroller and I were on our way out to get the mail when Madeline noticed a brilliant yellow rose that had burst from its bud. She immediately wanted to pluck the bloom and give it to me. I was flattered, of course, but I also wanted to savor its beauty.

"Let's wait until there are few more roses blossoming. Then you can pick one, okay?" That's when I noticed five more buds on the verge of bursting forth in an effusion of yellow. "Look, Madeline! Five buds that will soon be roses."

Madeline gently touched a bud. Then she pulled her stroller up to her and sat down on our front step.

"Honey, what are you doing? We're going to take your baby on a walk to get the mail."

"Ma-Ma wait for 'flaffles' to come."

There was my beautiful 2-and-a-half-year-old content to just sit and wait until the buds opened. Of course, she didn't understand that it could take a few days for the flowers to finally peek out of the green fronds, but I was so touched by her innocence and her contentment. If only I could learn to just sit and wait more instead of always rushing through life.

I did my best to explain to her that the roses might not appear for a few days, but when we returned from our walk (rather hastily because the gray sky had opened once again and was showering us with spring rain), she checked the buds again. "No roses. Check 'morrow.'" And we will. We'll check our rosebush every day so we won't miss the first sight of canary yellow sneaking out from the greenness.