The Flower's Dilemma

In the beginning of the flower's life, he lived happily. He had the twinkling sun on his round face, the cooling rain to soothe him, and the steady earth to keep him safe and sound. It was a good, stable life. It wasn't until he had grown his petals that he began to want to connect more to the pretty world around him.

On one bright day the sun caught his eye and he smiled, relishing in its' sudden warmth and intense light. It was pretty, it was beautiful- it gave him warmth and a way to grow. He began to love the sun, but the sun was a silent lover and didn't respond to his whispered proclaimations. He would tell the sun every day how beautiful she was, and how much he loved her. He watched the sun all day, his bright black face following her on her hot trip across the sky.

At night though, when the sun was gone and he was cold, he'd stretch his roots farther into the earth.

"I've noticed you've been happy lately." Said the ground in her steady, smooth whisper. It was familiar to him. He couldn't remember a time when he and the ground didn't converse. They used to talk all day- yet she'd been quiet lately. He'd also been busy, talking to the sun. So he might've not noticed if she had tried.

"I have, or I think I have." The flower could feel himself smiling, his black face a bit warm with embarassment. "It's been nice during the days."

The ground grew silent. After a moment she spoke. "It's the sun isn't it? You follow her all day... I understand."

"I suppose it is. She's just so beautiful, and complicated, and intense. I may be a tad infatuated." The flower smiled to himself, knowing the ground wouldn't see him.

"So I've noticed..." She sighed, a rumble of the earth that tickled his roots. "I guess she is beautiful. I've never thought about it, she usually just dries me out. She makes me feel drained, not so great."

He found himself defending her. "You should try to get to know her."

"Do you know her?" The ground asked pointedly.

The flower thought about it. "No, I guess not. But we'll get to know each other- I'll work on it. It's a bit hard, she's not much of a talker. More of the..." He pondered it. "She's a vibrant, silent type. The kind of like a mute supermodel."

The ground didn't say much for a while, and the flower was worried he'd upset her.

"Well," she said at last, "if you're happy than I'm happy for you. Goodnight flower." With that, the ground silenced herself and bedded down.

"Goodnight ground..." He whispered as she fell asleep.

The flower thought about that, and he decided it was a good bargain. He'd get to know the sun better and form a relationship, and the happiness he got from it would make his friend, the ground, happier. It was brilliant. He could make everyone happy, which is all he wanted.

The night grew longer, and as he rested he could hear the soft sounds of the ground's sleep. It had always been there, the gravelly rustle as she slept. It soothed him.

Over the summer he watched the sun all day. It was hot, and bright, up longer than ever before. He loved it, he loved her. He watched it as long as he could. He watched until his black face blistered and his yellow petals wilted.

"I think," he said one twilight afternoon, "that she's ignoring me."

The ground 'hrmphed'. "I told you. But I am sorry, it's not fair to have a love unrequited."

"My face hurts. My hair, my once bright petals, are dry and sad. I want summer to end." He tried to smile at the ground nicely, but his face hurt too much.

The ground pondered. "I agree. She turned your natural beauty into dry landscape, made you doubt yourself. You deserve better."

"I do!" The flower vehemently agreed, nodding. "I'm glad the fall is approaching- I think the sun and I aren't meant for each other."

He felt something change in the ground's demeanor. She turned in on herself. When she spoke, it was quietly and withdrawn- lacking the vigor and spunk the flower was accustom to.

"Yes. You're right. Maybe the autumn will bring you someone better."

After that the ground went to sleep. And the flower took notice that it was much earlier than usual, and without saying goodnight as was ritual.

He was optimistic for the fall though, and he still had the ground's comforting sounds of sleep to lull him off.

That was the morning of the first rain. Both he and the ground fully rejoiced. They laughed and sang, and joked with one another- welcoming their old friend the rain.

He would listen to both the girls speak of their time since they last saw one another. They were all friends. Although it was the first time he'd met the rain since he was a seedling, and he hadn't remembered how lovely and smooth the rain was. She spoke like she was always in a voluptuous ball gown, and she hugged him so tightly as she fell from the sky.

For weeks she'd fall and soothe his aching black face and plump up his petals again after being in the sun so long. "You look so much better now my dear," she'd say. "The sun was no good for you- she's too harsh. You need a girl who adores you and tells you how charming and smart and kind you are. I'd be that girl for you."

He quite liked the thought. His new love was lush, vibrant, cool, serene. She knew how he thought and acted. And she was even friends with the the ground- whom she made damp and healthy with her drops. That way, all three of them could talk and be happy.

But whenever the flower would be talking to the ground, the rain would fall and she'd remind him of how great he was for him.

"But the ground is my friend. She's always been there for me, she helped me through my last bad relationship. I tell her how great and wonderful you are, all the time." He meant it, at night he'd rave about his time with the rain. The ground would listen, and she'd say she was happy he found someone who returned his love.

"I think she's jealous." The rain would whisper in her ball gown voice as she fell upon his face. "What did you say to her? What did she say to you?"

The flower relayed to his love about what his friend, the ground, would say- about how she was happy that he was happy, that she was glad he'd found someone who completed him, that- although it was fading fast- he friendship with the rain was still a nice one.

The rain paused as she fell upon the ground, letting the ground collect the water for his roots. "I think she's jealous. She's probably lying."

And all through the night, he couldn't help but think of how the ground must've overheard every word the rain whispered to him. And all the nights that followed, he didn't hear her calming sleep noises to lull him into a deep sleep. She was awake, and quiet. She wouldn't speak, yet she made a sound that the flower did not know. It was sudden and trailed off, a shudder. She'd make little sounds, like a mouse gasping. It took him a week to realize she was crying.

The flower tried sharing with the rain his thoughts of the crying, but it didn't work. Atleast, not like it had with the ground. Each time the rain would change it around and say it was the ground's own fault she was envious.

The flower missed being able to share his deeper thoughts and feelings. It had been a month since his friend, the ground, had overheard he and the rain talking. He'd forgotten how it felt to share, that closeness. It made him ache right down to his roots, a chronic throb of longing.

Yet every day, early into winter, the rain would caress him. She'd speak in her smooth, low-backed gown voice, telling him how wonderful he was and how lucky they were to meet and find each other.

But during the days it didn't rain, he realized how empty he was. It had been almost four months since the ground had spoken with him. She still kept his roots safe, kept him warm during chilly winter nights, protected him from the weather- but no longer did she talk.

Ever since fall had waned, the flower had begun to change. His petals slowly fell off one by one, his black face lost most of his seeds, and he began to shrink. The rain didn't like the changes, and blamed the ground- that she was pulling the two of them apart.

Finally the flower realized what it was.

He missed the ground. He missed the talks, the soothing sounds she made in her sleep- which were replaced by a half stifled crying sound nowadays. He missed how honest she'd been with him, yet how she told him what he'd needed as he pestered her with crush after crush. His fascinations with the sun and the rain- neither of whom could hold a flame to how he felt with the ground. She'd always been there for him, grown with him, loved him. She'd never abandoned him, not until he truly deserved it.

And he'd pushed her away.

That evening's rain fell lighter, and the rain's voice was harder to hear. The flower was okay with that. He told her how he felt, and apologized for his bluntness. He was done with the rain, forsaking her lovely voice and soothing drops. She'd still show up from time to time, but they wouldn't talk.

That night at sunset, the flower moved his roots in the ground. She stirred.

"Hello," she said stiffly.

"Hello," he replied, feeling unappealing in his near-winter bareness.

"I like the new look..." She said, he could feel the smile in her voice- a faint, shy smile.

"Someone has to." He replied, smiling in spite of himself. He regained compsure and got his objective in mind. He coughed. "The rain... her and I aren't speaking any more. She bothered me, she wasn't what I wanted."

"What did you want?" The ground replied, a hint of her old personality shining through.

The flower paused, thinking about his wording. He wanted to get it right. "I wanted you. I just didn't know it."

"Well I think it's about time you came to terms with that."

And the ground and the flower smiled.