Little One

As a child, I imagined flower buds were baby flowers still fast asleep beneath their leafy blankets, patiently waiting for the perfect morning to awaken. I loved crouching down close to the earth to search for them hidden amongst the grass, wondering what colours and shapes they would one day become.

I remember discovering one tiny yellow bud standing gently amongst the flowers around it, almost as though she was shyly peeking into the world for the very first time. In my imagination, the older blooms watched over the little bud like a family, protecting her until she was ready to open beneath the sun. I returned to the same spot each day, captivated by the slow unfolding of something not yet complete.

While we often celebrate flowers in full bloom, buds possess a quieter kind of beauty. They are filled with mystery, promise, and futures that have not yet unfolded.

Perhaps there is joy in becoming, rather than in being complete. As adults, we are taught to admire perfection and finished forms, yet I still find myself drawn to things that are growing, changing, and quietly finding their own time to bloom.