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Blossoming – I am woman

Some months ago my mom was attempting to do what my mom does best. I always appreciate the woman immensely, therefore I always let her do what she does best, to me, even if is over the phone.

Women, are like flowers: they are meant to blossom, one way or another, with help or on their own. You just have to find out how. 

It took some time to understand what she meant, and why that was supposed to be important to me. I am people, and last I checked, last night, actually, I am woman, and following my mom´s prediction, I did/will blossom.

A woman may blossom just once during a lifetime, maybe twice, maybe ten times, maybe none. I don´t believe a woman dies without blossom at least once -but I am not 100% sure. 

My mom is 74 years old, and she has blossomed just once. It began one Wednesday, when she was 17 and my dad stole her from her prospect boyfriend. She has been blossoming for 58 years now, with my dad, and probably I am sure she wont stop blossoming until she dies.

With help or on their own, said my mother, and it made me think if the flowers that need help to blossom, are those flowers that grow at home, under the safety of a warm window and the voice of somebody taking care of them. In that case, the flowers that they do it on their own must be all those wild flowers growing on the fields, wild, in packs, strong… I wonder where I do belong, which group, taken by a desire of belonging somewhere, or someone -and despite part of me envies the house flowers -their security, their safety, I am not torn into neither of these ones or the other ones…

The answer strikes me this morning, when on my way to work. I stop short on the sidewalk where some color catches my eye: a little flower, pushing through cracks, pushing its way to stand to diversity on her own individuality, blossoming without planning: This is me.

I am still unsure if I have bloomed and I don’t even remember (my mom says no) or if I am about to bloom sometime in some future. What I know is that I just have to pray that nobody will crush me or even worst, that no dog will pee on me.

9 Comments Post a comment
  1. MT #

    Eit nydelig innlegg Silvia !

    Marieklem din veg 🙂

    April 12, 2012
  2. I’m a wild flower, just like you, growing through the cracks. Then one day a boy walked by, and pulled it out, now he carries this flower showing it to the world. Luckily he got to me before a dog decided to pee.

    April 12, 2012
    • lucky woman, Nikki! Let him pamper you as much as possible, then. 🙂
      Sarcastically, my destiny may be the dog pee 😛

      April 13, 2012
  3. You are a beautiful wild flower. Blossom, my friend. Blossom so hard it fucking hurts.

    April 13, 2012
  4. Duba #

    I am glad to hear that you feel like a wild flower, because I think that you are;with pee of a dog or not, you can feel the wind, the rain, the sun, the cold, the hot ,the snow, you are free!!, independent!!, you can even admire the rest of the world in a nice sunset or the worst storm. You are strong and a life!

    I like too wild flowers, because they are always a surprise and they always blink your eyes!

    April 14, 2012
  5. dufmanno #

    I was all aflutter loving this post and then suddenly I had a terrible visual of myself as crab grass. Leave it to my mind to wipe the floor with my whimsical musings about myself.

    April 18, 2012
  6. S. #

    Reblogged this on The Secret World of S. and commented:
    What kind of flower are you? Do you feel as though you have “Bloomed”, regardless of your sex, or is blooming something that only happens to women?
    I think it is a really interesting way to look at cycles in life. Our environment is affected by the seasons (especially up here in the chilly north where it goes from -30’C in the winter to +30’C in the summer!) so why wouldn’t our lives also flow according to this natural principle? I think it makes a great deal of sense to view experiences as cycles… You start something new, you grow according to the conditions of your environment, which leads us to bloom and eventually begin to wilt and die. I’m not talking about the larger life cycle, rather the experiences of everyday.
    For example getting a new job is often a growing experience, after you have learned your position and are feeling confident you bloom, then when your skills or expectations surpass the limits of the job you look for a new job and start the proccess over.
    What do you think? Does a woman/man bloom once, more than once or, for some, not at all?
    I would love to hear your thoughts.
    xo – S.

    June 4, 2012
  7. How very sweet this was. I see why S reblogged it. Your mother’s right. If a woman looks back she knows when it happened because it was when she was happier than she’d ever been before. It’s rare but possible. It’s kind of like Halley’s Comet.

    June 5, 2012

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