Yesterday Stuart bought himself flowers; bright red tulips mixed with daffodils.
I was quite taken back by this
"Here is a new thing', I thought.
"its usually suits or ties or some other skin and image to hide in, but flowers, this spells something different; maybe appreciation for himself, a proper gift".
I relish the idea of this change, this shift in gear deep inside. I imagine his spirit smiling at the blooms as he picked them and exchanged his cash for a hit of transient beauty.
I am greeted by the flowers this morning. To be honest I had forgotten that they were there. I am pleased to see them though; they act as if a loaded paintbrush, there to colour away the dead white of the bad dreams that brought me prematurely down the stairs. They seem to of made friends with the blue and white teapot that sits next to them - they certainly seem very happy together. I go chant three times at the butsudan, thankful for them.
So there they sit on the kitchen window sill, resplendent and beautiful; brightening the grey sky that frames them, blood and sunshine - life things, essential to being.