Where The Flowers Grow

Behind the Flores Household there was a small yard. In the backyard the family would hang laundry. By the fence there were some flowers. I spent many a days staring at these flowers. Pondering my future. Wondering if I had the fortitude to deal with the numerous problems that seemed to pop up each and every single day.

flowrs

After a few weeks Ana and I had separated. She was living in another state and I was living with her Uncle and Aunt in another part of Mazatlan. I often walked the few miles each day to visit her children, and her family. I really loved her family, maybe even more than her. Especially after we separated.

I believe there is something about them that draws them to me. They welcomed me as one of their own. I know they did not always agree with how I handled problems, or my way of solving them. But they recognized that I loved their daughter, and I loved them as well. And because of that they loved me back. Even when the best thing for Ana and I was to not be together anymore. Even if she thought we should be together. We were like oil and water.

The daily visits to her family kept me centered and kept me ticking each day. I was sick with guilt and heartache and watching them be so happy and content with their daily lives and routines while I thought my problems were so monumental just made me realize how trivial my problems really were.

The flowers at the back of the house were often unnoticed much like the blessings in the relationships we have. There wasnt a day that went by that I didn’t wish for some sort of reconciliation between An and I but it was really out of my control. I struggled with depression, anger, and guilt for all our problems. But I was constantly surrounded by people who geniunely loved, and cared about me.

Never in my entire life have I felt so surrounded by geniune love. The flowers grew thick, and heavy in Mazatlan. I was loved. I was cared for. I was nurtured and slowly healing came.

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2 responses to “Where The Flowers Grow

  1. This is beautiful, David. All of it.

  2. Thanks, a slow outpouring of the heart.

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