On my way to the shop this morning, I came across a bunch of old flowers sticking out of a garbage bag. Then I thought, "Why do fresh flowers have to last forever?"
Where in the world did we get that expectation? That in order for real flowers to be of any value they should never die. Why?
When the magnolia trees burst into pale pink blossoms as if by magic near the edge of winter, we might wish they'd last longer. But then, what would be our sign that spring was on the way?
When you have a great meal, see a rainbow after a storm, or for me, hear Claire de Lune, I thoroughly enjoy it for as long as it lasts, then it's over. But that's okay, because I can play that tune again and again and again if I want.
See another breathtaking sunset or go back to that restaurant and have that same meal. But, if you had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday, I wonder if it would retain that magic. Stop being quite as special as it once was.
That's how I wish we'd all feel about flowers. A thing to be enjoyed in the moment, for however long that moment lasts.