The Pink Flower

I’ve been trying to figure out what kind it was since I got home, but I’m having a hard time locating anything online that resembles it.

I was midway through my evening walk when I started noticing some flower beds in desperate need of attention. Some were overgrown with tall weeds, while others were just soil littered with dead remnants of what used to be alive and green.

In the middle of one especially depressing patch of dirt was a wonderfully beautiful flower rising up and out of its surroundings. It was strong; it was intent on being amazing.

I’m assuming its origin was a bulb deep beneath the surface. Its stem was more of a stalk; its flower was trumpet-shaped and bubble gum pink. It was a lily of some sort, I think. Must continue my sleuthing.

I’ve been appalled at the news lately which, sadly, is why I often choose to avoid it entirely. Terrible, I know. But watching it is depressing, disheartening and it makes me question humanity. Sometimes, however, we hear a story that gives us hope, or reminds us that there’s still beauty out there.

That’s what the flower was — a reminder of the good, of the perseverance that’s necessary to rise above and beyond one’s surroundings.

Tonight I am thankful for the reminder that the pink flower provided, and for its determination to not let the world around it bring it down. It may not be an easy process, but it just goes to show that focusing on the beautiful parts of life helps to spread the beauty around to others. And, these days, I feel like we can all use more of it.

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