Thursday, November 29, 2012

The Amaryllis

I bought an amaryllis bulb last week from our postmistress, to support Huntington's Disease.

It was going to be beautiful, much like my daughter. And I thought it would be neat for the children to watch it grow.

We took the bulb out of the package and as I was reading the instructions I dropped it on the floor. The living part of the bulb broke. The boys tried to fix it by sticking it in the dirt. I explained to them that it was broken and I couldn't fix it. It was broken like Eva's heart, and mommy couldn't fix it.

I got so sad when I broke that bulb. There was no reason for my grief. It's just a bulb, really. Just the potential of a flower. But that potential broke on my kitchen floor and I got really, really sad.

Unlike Eva's heart, I could probably buy another one. But somehow that feels wrong. I want another one. Would like to see the flower bloom in the middle of winter with the children watching.  But going out and buying another one feels like betraying the bulb I broke. And this is just a flower...why am I feeling this way?

And maybe there is a correlation here. Letting little J into my heart feels like a betrayal to the girl whose heart broke.

Maybe I needed this bulb to break to see what is in my heart. 


  1. I like this. Little things in life can be compared so intimately and found to be so similar with the big things. Again, thanks for sharing. ~R

  2. After my first two miscarriages, but before we conceived A, I bought a big pot of scarlet begonias (Grateful Dead fan here) to cheer me up. They died almost immediately. I know how you feel about the amaryllis. As for letting little J in, I don't want to presume to know how you are feeling or say how you should, but it is clear from your writing that you are an excellent mother, to Eva, to the boys, and I'm sure to Little J. You are doing a good job, Em. A really, really good job.

    1. Thank you MIFD,
      It's the strangest things that bring the grief home to me again.