Wednesday, May 5, 2010
The other day Bennett and I went outside to take pictures of my tulips. He looked a bit bewildered as we approached the flowerbed. I told him I wanted to take pictures of the tulips - he looked at me, pointed to his lips and then to mine, held up two fingers and then tried to grab the camera. Patiently I grabbed the camera back out of his grubby little hand (I really need to buy him one of his own) and explained that the flowers that we were looking at were called TULIPS. He remained unconvinced and continued to look at me as if he'd just been punk'd.
Anyway, back to the tulips. I titled the post "Last Tulips" because this will be the last time I see my tulips bloom. As readers are aware, we are moving in 107 days. You may not be aware of how incredibly sentimental I am and how attached I get to things. This move will be hard for me even though we're only moving 5km away. In particular I'll miss my tulips. I purchased these flowers 4 years ago on our way home from Toronto after an IUI treatment cycle. That was the cycle that produced Bennett. For those readers unaware of our history I refer you to the sidebar link Part 1 of Our Story. On our way home from Toronto I would always make Jim stop at one of my favourite flower shops on Avenue Road to buy myself something to help ease the pain of the hopelessness I felt. That year, I bought myself two pots of tulips - yellow and pink. By the time they were done blooming and I planted the bulbs, I knew I was pregnant.
Of course we all know what happened next - Part 2 of Our Story. By the time spring arrived we had Bennett and I had just undergone another surgery on my leg. I remember vividly watching and waiting to see if the tulips would bloom and sure enough they did - and they have every year since - each year more beautiful than the last. So, in many ways those tulips are more than tulips to me. In many ways they represent hope - hope that sometimes despite the hopelessness of a situation things can work out. Hope that even when you feel battered and broken, you know that you'll be ok again. Hope that someday, you'll have more hope - becomes sometimes hope is in short supply.
Did you get all that? Pretty corny I know. Just as I know that tulips are just tulips and that I'll plant new ones at the new house. But, I'll still miss these old ones.