O, white chrysanthemum!

You came into my life as a gift 

A small tiny pot and a piece of earth held you 

O white chrysanthemum, when I first saw you 

I felt joy, serenity and got absorbed into the whiteness of your petals 

You have been with me for a year and have perhaps smiled at my petty worries 

When I held you first, I didn’t know if I would be able to keep you healthy 

Was I watering you enough? Did I place you well for the sun to reach you? 

Overwatering hurts more than under , an experienced gardener advised 

Soon after we met, your first blooms left 

It was winter, I would water you, move you , look at you 

Wait for the next bloom, sometimes patiently sometimes not so patiently 

Feeling guilty for not having moved you to a larger pot as I was asked to 

In all my busy activity, I have at times forgotten you exist in my space 

At other times, I have had deep silent conversations with you 

Thanking you for coming into my life and staying alive even when I wondered if you really were

I wondered if I was doing enough, I left you at times when I had to travel 

For long travels, I found you a caretaker, 

On shorter travels, I simply left you , a bit worried if you would be there when am back 

Right there you were, doing your own thing, bursting from within before it was to be seen 

You bloomed again when it was spring & allowed me to see that I wasn’t as bad a caretaker as I thought I was 

Life is taking me somewhere else and I need to leave you with a friend 

Now that we are parting, you called me, made me hold you with both my hands

In those few moments we saw each other & the relationship we built 

I was trying to speak & you made me quiet, drawing me in to your golden yellow core 

I sat there, holding you, admiring you in your entirety with 3 white blooms, the unfolding multi-layered petals, the dried brown leaves, the new beaming green, slender strong stems connecting you with your truth 

Thank you for smacking this right in my face that it never was much about me

I needed to expand my sights to see the wilderness within you, to sense into the cycles of time you were carrying, to understand that the essence within you was more seasoned 

I needed to learn to honor the timeless tale of reciprocity that underlies all creation where the mother becomes the child and the child , the mother. 

O white chrysanthemum, O white chrysanthemum!