Camellia’s Gift

I can’t remember the time I wasn’t able to hear the flowers and insects talk, but I do remember the first time my parents took me to see the family doctor.  I recall him peering over his glasses, muttering, this is very unusual, children tend to just have imaginary friends, but I don’t think you should worry too much, whatever it is, she’ll grow out of it.

I sat there feeling invisible, thinking, what’s all the fuss about?  I had always listened and joined in on their conversations – why would I want to grow out of it!

In the end, my mother thanked the doctor and said to my father, let’s not worry about her, you have to admit, we do have the best garden in the neighbourhood.

After that, I tried hard not to embarrass my parents whenever there were flowers present.

I am married now and calling in on my parents to keep them up to date on my visits to the hospital; they so wanted to be grandparents. Today the news was not good. I would never be able to have children. They smiled, saying, don’t worry Rosemary, but their eyes told me differently.

Before I left, I went into the garden to see my friend the camellia bush. We had grown up together and had shared so many happy times laughing and chatting. She looked glorious today in full bloom and so happy to see me.  I didn’t have to tell her I could never have children – she just knew. This was the bond I had with nature, something my parents couldn’t understand.

Look there!

I looked to see the young shoots of a lavender growing.

I’ve just adopted her, Camellia said proudly.

How, I asked?

The birds helped her seed for me.

Why don’t you adopt too, Rosemary? Camellia said knowingly.

I’ll never forget the look of wonder and awe on my parents’ faces as I explained my decision to adopt.  Finally, they came to understand my amazing gift.

I’m in full bloom
In tune insects call
Natures language is there for all.