I’ve got this row of sunflowers that grow in a small patch in what qualifies as my front yard.
They range anywhere between ten to twelve feet in height with the flower itself almost a foot in diameter.
They’ve become a haven for all sorts of flying things that buzz in and around them for hours on end.
They were planted only a few months ago and I’m amazed that something could grow that tall that fast and mature so quickly.
It didn’t hit me until she came downstairs with her pillows and her blankets that eighteen years have passed.
We loaded up her car, my tears overflowing, and her mascara streaming down her face and as she pulled away and turned the corner
I remembered when I’d watch her walk down the block as a toddler and think that this day was too far off to consider.
She came along those eighteen years ago and I’m amazed that something could grow that tall that fast and mature so quickly.
When I left home for work this morning I took notice of my sunflowers.
Their faces, which only a few days ago strained skyward trying to reach the sun now stare glumly at the earth.
Their stems, once so rigid and straight are now poised awkwardly as if readying themselves to topple over.
Once that’s done, their seeds will become food for the birds and the squirrels so that they might live on and prosper.
I’ll probably try and salvage a few them so when the time comes I can replant them and watch them grow.
I imagine that these first days are going to be rough on all of us.
As for me, I find it hard to concentrate on anything other than what lies ahead
and I’m already looking forward to her first visit back home.
She’ll probably have a bunch of stories to tell about her newfound experiences and adventures.
I’ll probably try and salvage a few them so when the time comes I can replant them and watch her grow.