“DOOONNNN’TTttttt….”, the word was still in my mouth, when it happened. My son’s hand swung out, knocking the stem off my plumeria plant. A moment earlier, I had been gazing proudly at 17 buds poised to spread their perfume and beauty outside my bedroom window. Now all there was to see was the stump of a stem, bleeding milky white discharge.
These would have been my first flowers in four years. I would have seen their perfection first thing in the morning on waking up. I wept.
|Flashback 2011- March|