I’m on the road more lately, traveling between the two cities where my heart lives. I drive up and down a two-lane highway most days, watching crops grow and leaves turn and women changing out their flower pots to reflect the seasons.
“I love to look at the flowers at this house,” I told my love one day as we passed by together. “She changes the flowers every so often.”
“I have never even noticed that,” he said, which was remarkable since he drives by at least twice as much as I do. The flower pots, they were so vibrant and big and many.
A few weeks later I realize I haven’t even looked at the flowers for several days. And now, glancing over as my car barrels past, the pots are empty. The cold nights and crystalline frosts caused the leaves to turn black, no doubt. A woman in love with flowers as much as she was would never leave plants with blackened leaves in the pots.
Empty, sit the pots. No flowers to notice. Not that I would anymore.
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Photo by laffy4k, via Flickr, used with permission under the Creative Commons License.