Spring appears to have arrived everywhere but my yard. My neighbor’s tree is blooming. I don’t know what kind of tree it is. It is just big and beautiful and makes me happy. The whole neighborhood is full of color and flowers. Various purples and yellow and red.
But my daffodils aren’t blooming. My trees are still bare. My yard is covered in winter’s uneven brownish green.
I heard a friend’s good news today. Yet at first all I could think of is “why her?” Why did she get to be happy? Why does her flower bloom when mine doesn’t? I quickly banished the thoughts and felt badly for begrudging her this happiness.
I am happy for my friend. She had a difficult few years and things are better for her now. But looking at my neighbor’s gorgeous tree full of flowers only highlights the fact that my yard is barren. Empty.
And so I wait. For my yard to bloom. For my life to bloom.