Blossom

The eternity-long winter ended with the dawn to the first day of spring at Perennial Gardens. The birds were singing, small creatures came out of hibernation, and the radiant sun bathed the green lands in its warm glow. It was the time for young, growing buds of tomorrow to head out into the world, play with the other kids in the neighborhood, and blossom into their full potential. However, anxious Violet chose to stay indoors.

Violet was blue with sadness. She had lost her elder sister that winter. The sight of her wilting, becoming one with the soil, had etched itself in her mind. She became aloof and recluse, locking herself inside the abode of her clay pot as her bereavement soon morphed into restless worries about her own mortality.

“If I step outside, I might burn in the sun or drown in the rain,” she quivered with uneasiness. “I cannot blossom, open up to the world, and make myself vulnerable.”

Her mother, Viola, nudged her numerous times to play outside with the other buds in the garden. Violet knew she was only looking out for her well-being, but her anxiety restrained her from acquiescing. In her growing concern, her mother prayed to the angels to help her beloved daughter.

Violet had ignored her friends when they came knocking at her door to invite her to play. The next day, when they called outside her window, she again cowered away. After they did not bother at all, her head began swimming with insecurity and dejection.

Violet hid behind the curtains, enviously watching her friends.

Out in the distance across the garden, she saw Daisy blissfully running in circles, twirling her yellow, pleated skirt. She was cheerful and friendly as always, spreading her joy by smiling at everyone. “She wouldn’t want my presence to dampen her mood,” Violet told herself.

Her best friend, Lily, in a white, flaring dress and long, braided hair, was assisting a beetle fallen on his back. She was pure as snow, always helped others, and never lied. “Lily must despise anybody who lies,” Violet reckoned, talking aloud to herself. “And I would be lying to her if I said I was all right. Better to be on my own,” she convinced herself.

Then there was beautiful Rose, the center of attention in her ravishing red ball gown, charming the entire garden with her elegance and grace. “Her character must be as thorny as her appearance,” Violet judged a book by its cover. “She would criticize me until I cried. I am better off alone.”

Tall and slender, Heather, with her mauve, pixie hair, was playing alone with the butterflies and bees —the pets of the garden, feeding them with the sack of pollen in her pocket. Violet admired her allure, her confidence, desiring to be like her. “She would never want to hang out with someone so modest and demure like me,” she assumed once again.

One lazy afternoon, the gray clouds veiled the sun. Violet was idly sitting by the window, gazing at the horizon, when she spotted a flying chariot: a golden ceramic vase driven by butterflies and bees. After the heavens opened up, the chariot landed outside her porch, and its rain-soaked charioteer knocked on her door.

“Excuse me, little bud,” called a silvery voice. “Can you help a fellow bloom? Can I take shelter here until the rain disperses?”

Though in doubt, Violet opened the door, sensing the plea in the visitor’s voice. She recognized her as the angel of flowers. A rainbow of petals made her wings, and a halo of laurel glowed over her head. She was redolent with the fragrance that evoked calmness and energy at the same time.

“My sincerest gratitude, Violet,” the angel expressed her appreciation.

“Pardon? How-how do you know my name?” Violet asked. “Do you know my mother?”

“I am Flora, the angel of flowers,” she introduced herself with a smile. “I know every bud living in my gardens.”

“Please, come in and have a seat,” Violet invited. “Can I get you a towel and some drinks?”

“No, I’m fine— Why do you not open yourself to the world and live life to the fullest?” Flora cut her off. “As the angel of flowers, it pains me to see that you have not bloomed.”

“Well…” Violet hesitantly confessed her anxiety, “the outdoors is full of dangers and uncertainty. I do not want to end up like my elder sister.” Looking up at Flora with her big, tearful eyes, she cried, “I know I am silly, but I don’t know what to do. Am I crazy?”

“There, there,” Flora comforted, wrapping her thin, leafy hands around Violet in an embrace. “You aren’t the first bud to feel the way you do, and you won’t be the last.”

“Really?” Violet lit up with hope, feeling a sense of ease in her warm, soothing presence. “Can you please help a broken stem like me?”

“It takes a brave soul to admit they need help,” Flora admired her courage. “I’m proud of you. I will help you because you helped me.” Wiping the tears from her eyes, she lifted her head and asked, “Violet, whatever you stress about, do they make any sense? Be honest with yourself.”

“Well— It’s not that—” Violet struggled to justify her anxiety. “I know deep down everything is in my mind. But, but—”

“—but it is gnawing in your stomach and refraining you from blooming.” Flora completed the sentence. With Violet nodding in agreement, she took her hand, “Come, let’s walk to the porch.” Pointing at the puddle of water near the walkway, she instructed, “Look at your reflection; tell me what you see.”

Violet was speechless, shocked to see herself drooping and her bright, lively color fading. She was wilting away, not too far from her elder sister’s condition before her demise.

“One doesn’t have to go to a crystal gazer to see your future,” Flora remarked. “You were so lost in the abyss of your anxiety, in meaningless worries, that you never thought to look at its pernicious effect on your health. The poison of anxiety works in irony, fueling your fate to the very outcome you were trying to avoid.”

“What can I do?” Violet began hyperventilating. “Can I do something to alter my future, or is it too late?”

“It’s never too late, little bud.” Patting her head to calm her, Flora entreated, “You must blossom. Live your life to the fullest. Stop worrying about ‘what could be’ and focus on ‘what is.’ If not for yourself, do it for the others who need you.”

“But-but I have no one who needs me,” Violet sadly believed. “I have no purpose in life.”

“You have your family,” Flora reminded. “Your mother, Viola, lives solely for you, and surely seeing her daughter blooming will put a smile on her face. You can have a sense of purpose by helping the insects and birds who rely on your pollen for survival. In fact, the simple beauty of your presence can brighten a passerby’s mood. And do not forget your friends.”

Violet and Flora looked up as the rain stopped. The skies cleared for the golden sun to shine, inviting life to return to the freedom of the outdoors. Livening the atmosphere of the garden were her vibrant and colorful friends. They were playfully jumping around, splashing their feet on the wet, muddy ground, dancing to the tunes of birds and the rustling of trees.

“Go and join them,” Flora encouraged. “Your friends will happily welcome you back.”

“My-my friends?” Violet apprehensively quivered. “I doubt they will accept me after I have ignored them.”

“Violet, if you want to move forward, you must begin by forgiving yourself. Only then can you build the courage to approach them. If they are true friends, they will understand what you were going through and welcome you back in a heartbeat.”

“Will they?” Violet asked skeptically.

“You should ask them yourself instead of stressing about it,” Flora sagely advised as she approached her chariot and prepared to leave. “Alas, it is time for farewell. I hope I have enlightened you to the meaning of life.”

“Wait! Do not leave me,” Violet pleaded, pulling the hem of her dress. “Stay by my side. I-I have forgotten how to blossom!”

“No, Violet. Only you can help yourself,” Flora got in the chariot, imparting her final words of wisdom. “Leave your unfounded fears behind and open yourself to the world. Only then can you blossom and live happily.”

Flora’s chariot launched into the air, leaving a trail of golden dust behind, and as it cleared, Violet found herself inside her home, staring out the window again. She was confused, unable to understand if her interaction with the angel of flowers was real or if it had all been a dream. Regardless of its reality, Flora’s words had left an impact on Violet, and she made up her mind, determined to change for the better.

Violet approached the door but hesitated as her mind ran wild with anxious thoughts. Despite cowering away, she reminded herself not to give up. She continued making efforts and built up her courage until she finally stepped out.

“Whatever will be, will be,” Violet told herself. “I am ready to face the world, ready for the rejection of my friends.”

However, her experience was completely different from her assumption. The sun she believed would burn her was pleasant, the rain she supposed would drown her was refreshing, and her friends were more than welcoming to her return.

“Violet, you are back,” Lily ran across the garden to hug her best friend. “We have missed you dearly.”

“You have?” Violet reacted in genuine surprise, turning emotional with her friendliness. “I-I thought you wouldn’t wa-want anything to do with me after I ignored you all.”

“Nonsense!” Rose uttered, taken aback. “How could you even think like that? We are your good friends!”

“We heard what happened last winter,” Daisy added. “We have been praying for you to return to us… to your vibrant self.”

“Come on, Violet,” Heather crossed her hands, joking around by feigning sternness. “Why would we abandon our close friend?”

“I am sorry,” Violet apologized. “I regret doubting all of you. Please forgive me.”

“We understand,” Daisy calmed. “Remember, you can always rely on friends for help.”

“Come,” Lily linked her arm with Violet’s. “Let’s play under Grandpa Oak’s shade.”

Violet smiled, recognizing the beauty of friendship, and realized how foolish she had been by anxiously worrying about nothing.

Angel Flora, who had been watching from above, was proud to see Violet overcoming her anxiety. She had found a purpose in life by helping those in need and brightening the world with her beauty. She brought joy to her mother, Viola, by opening up to the world to blossom.

Moral of the story:

Do not become an ‘Anxious Violet’ and stress about the things that may or may not happen. Live in the present, and the future will take care of itself.