Tulips on a rainy day

There are certain times of the year when I miss my grandmother the most. One of those times is the beginning of Spring, when flowers wake up from their winter slumber to stretch their new shoots out of the cold, wet ground towards the sun. When I see this beginning to happen, I picture my grandmother wandering around her yard, whispering secrets to the tiny buds, her hands clasped behind her back, and pieces of hair slipping out of the bun that rested on top of her head.


I have a tulip that just sprouted out of the ground. It's a tulip that once made a home in my grandma's yard, one that she once whispered to, trying to coax it to bloom especially for her. I remember that those tulips were difficult to dig up after my grandmother passed away. It was as if we were digging up tiny pieces of her to carry off with us to our new homes.


Today it's dark and rainy, but the tulip from my grandmother's yard is bright pink. It's like she's giving me a little gift to remember her on a dreary day.