The Stem

My family and friends are petals of a flower; I am the stem. The soil beneath the flower is its lifeblood. The stem reaches deep down within the soil, establishing roots where my memories live. Petals keep falling, but the stem tries to stand strong. The newly fallen petals lie on top of the soil for a while, dormant but bright. They start to fade and slowly disintegrate into the roots, no longer visible to the naked eye. The roots become stronger, but the stem starts to weaken. Soon the stem is alone, devoid of petals that once made it stand out for its beauty and strength against any storm. The stem bends and slowly falls to the soil below. The soil welcomes the stem as an old friend, almost forgotten but always connected to its lifeblood. But the roots were always there. They have not forgotten the stem but are weary with memories of love and hurt. The stem is gone, but the SON still shone. Soon a gentle rain falls upon the soil, and a faint heartbeat is heard from the roots. “Come out,” the soil shouts to the roots below. The roots hear the soil but are cautious of breaking through. It is protected in the soil, no more hurt, but also no more warmth. Soon, the call of the SON is too strong to ignore. Wanting to feel the warmth again, it breaks out of the protective soil to emerge once again. This time the stem is a little stronger, able to put even more petals on its body. Reaching higher to the sun, able to bear more but also deepening its roots.

I am a new creation, yet the same creation.