My sunflowers have wilted in their simple bouquet on the kitchen counter.
The water has gone brown. There’s a faint smell of dieing in it, filling the air with a thin veil of burnout.
I haven’t taken the sunflowers out of their vase yet. I haven’t put them in the dirt to become part of the soil that grows new flowers. I’ve watched the petals fall one by one.
Can’t seem to look away.
Can’t seem to avoid the metaphor that these sunflowers – usually so full of life and energy, always looking towards the sun – look a lot like me.
Heads bowed in exhaustion. Sadness.
The color from their leaves fading. Unhealthy.
And the life force, their water, gone brown with decay. Stagnant.
Sometimes it’s good to call it what it is. Most times. All the time, really.
Because when you acknowledge that the water is brown,
that the color is fading,
that the petals are falling,
THE REAL CHANGE CAN BEGIN.