The Last Flower Standing

The other day, I found myself running late for Spanish class- as per usual. This particular class is held in Scharbauer Hall, which is only about a ten minute walk from my house. I always opt to walk instead of drive and usually try to take advantage of these quiet mornings by keeping my phone in my pocket and taking in my surroundings and the chilly air as I prepare for the day ahead. However, this particular morning, I slept through my alarm, so I was booking it. 

This week was particularly cold and gray, and the cold front had come in- just another reason to pick up my pace. Most of the plants along this walk had succumbed to the cold- leaving only twigs. This part of the year always bums me out. I love all the colors of fall and find myself getting really sad as the cold comes in; it feels like the color drains from life a bit. It’s not as if the grass has died yet, but it feels like green and brown are all that’s left. I cross the four-way stop, and TCU is within view! As I get a little closer to the street that separates TCU from my neighborhood, something catches my eye. A beautiful flower giving this cold and gray day a pop of color! 

I couldn’t help it, I had to stop and observe it for a moment. All the plants around it had withered away; I wondered why this particular flower was able to hold on a bit longer? In fact, upon closer look, there seemed to be two buds coming from the same stalk. Does their togetherness help them survive longer? I feel like that’s the case for humans as well. I pondered these questions as I finished my walk to class. I wanted to stay with my flower and get an even closer look, but if I spent even another second, I was sure to miss roll call. 

Class trudged on slowly and monotonously, which was representative of the day. No one had much energy and participation was at an all-time low. Class finally wraps up, and I start making my way back to my house- knowing what was awaiting me about halfway there. I picked up the pace again, not because I was late this time, but because I was excited to get back to my flower! This second time around, I was able to really observe it, and not be in a rush. I discovered that it was a Monarda flower, also commonly called a Bee Balm. Its beautiful pink petals were smooth and contrasted perfectly with the spikey golden stigma. Even after I left, I thought about my flower for a while.  To me, the flower continuing to stand tall when all the others had fallen is a symbol of resilience- not faltering or withering away, even when the environment or situation isn’t ideal. And I want to be just like my flower!