I remember how we were taught in grade five that vegetation of all sorts inhabits this planet;
there are tall, sturdy banyans,
and tiny, fragile rose bushes,
there are cacti and oak and pines,
and there are creepers and climbers.
All of which exist in coincidence.
As I grew older, shedding off pieces of innocence one at a time, I wondered why it was the creepers and the climbers that I related to so much;
I wondered why I couldn’t feel like the towering banyan, living up to a thousand years; or like the delicate rose, symbolic to the cupid’s arrow;
I wondered why I felt like wisteria, clawing at any sign of steadfastness; or the coral pea, never quite strong to lift itself off the earth;
As the other children around me, grew more and more into their skin, I wondered why I felt like grapevine that could never really let go of the walls or the bottle gourd that only befriended the ground;
I wondered why I felt like I belonged to the rocks and soil, instead of the sky;
And as I grow wiser each day, I find that it is as important to be close to home as it is to be the clouds; and it is as important to interact with the branches as it is to befriend the caterpillars;
And frankly, as I grow more and more into my skin each day, I find that there is nothing wrong with being a sunflower in a world full of roses.
