Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Last Tulips



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.

8 comments:

Kara said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Kara said...

Why not dig them up and take them with you to plant at the new house? They are really pretty and well worth it considering the memories they hold.

Amy Carroll said...

I can relate, I'm very sentimental too. I agree with Kara...take them with you. They have so much meaning.

Barbara said...

Kara & Amy - Apparently it is possible and quite easy to dig them up, store them and plant again. I think I'll be packing tulip bulbs. They do mean a lot to me.

TherExtras said...

Another vote for using your shovel sentimentally.

Mummu and Poppa said...

We have you and we have Bennett ... then came the tulips ... then will come the tulips again!!! You must take them. They are apart of your journey with Bennett.

Taking the tulips is taking the memories that go with them.

It all seems like so long ago that your journey began, but really it isn't.

You will certainly enjoy them at the new home.

The colours are so vivid. They are worth all the effort of planting bulbs.

Love
Mummu and Poppa
xxx ooo xxx ooo xxx ooo xxx ooo

Barbara said...

Ok - the consensus is in. I'll provide Jim with a shovel and set him to work on "Operation - Rescue Tulips"!!

Kiera Beth said...

I am so glad to hear that you will be able to transport them to the new place! I am with all of your other readers that they need to come along.