The sunshine reaching through the window glistened on the table, reflecting onto the surface of the coffee in Dan’s cup. Gooseflesh rippled up his skin, and he felt the familiar sense of hopelessness.
“Dan,” a gentle voice made his head lift.
Sally sat across from Dan, gazing at him.
He forced a smile as her eyes slightly furrowed from worry. Trying to hide the wave of sadness washing over him, Dan sipped the coffee.
“Are you okay?” she asked
He stayed quiet, looking away.
“I wanted to give you something for your 19th birthday,” her lips curved with a soft smile. “But I wanted to give it to you personally, without others around.”
She slid a transparent package toward him.
“It’s daisy seeds,” she said.
Small, dark brown seeds were visible through the pack.
“Are you serious?” Dan couldn’t smile anymore. “Why are you giving me seeds when I can’t even take care of myself? Do you think this can fix what happened?”
They had broken up a few months before, and Dan, still in love with her, had been mourning their relationship since.
“Taking care of plants is said to help with mental health,” she whispered.
“Thank you,” Dan uttered.
She smiled and wordlessly touched his hand with hers.
Dan sat there, feeling her warm palm against his, but it wasn’t enough to make the cold, taking over his body, disappear.
*
The birds jumped on the branches, children running on the streets, jumping into the puddles left from the morning rain.
Dan stepped into his new apartment. A slight breeze reached through the open windows, boxes piled up in the corners.
Hours passed while he unpacked the boxes, trying to turn the house into his home. Kneeling, he opened another box and suddenly, he noticed a transparent package at the bottom of the box – daisy seeds. Months had passed since that day, and Dan had forgotten about the seeds that had spent this time in a dark corner of a drawer, untouched and rejected. Guilt surged through Dan. He felt like by abandoning Sally’s gift, he had abandoned her.
The following morning, after the classes, Dan returned home with packs of loam and filled old plastic coffee cups with them. He planted the seeds in them and put the cups out on his fire escape. Pride raised in him—the unfamiliar sense of doing something good for himself pulsed through him like electricity.
Only a few days later, the tips of the daisies appeared on the surface of the loam. Laughter broke through Dan’s mouth as he gently touched the flower buds, feeling like he caressed miniature, majestic animals.
The buds soon grew into full flowers, and the daisies bloomed. As Dan realized they were about to grow more, he bought pots and moved the daisies in them.
“You are the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen!” he exclaimed.
After observing each daisy, adoring their simple beauty, Dan learned to notice and appreciate little things in life: sun filtering through the leaves and dancing on his face as he walked to the morning classes; the birds chirping to each other; the glances of people through their windows having breakfast; feeling the scent of a baby in his mother’s arms passing by his; the gloom slowly seeping through the blue sky in the evening; the streetlights tracing his apartment walls with deep yellow lines.
Just like Sally had said, the daisies brought Dan joy. Watering them every day turned into a way to ease his anxiety, to make the stress and tension leave his body and mind, to let himself be in the moment and appreciate what he had. It was a way of self-healing. By taking care of the daisies, Dan took care of himself.
Every time Dan watered the flowers, a smile spread on his face, bringing them inside when it rained, even talking to them. When he watched them grow, hope would spark in his heart – the hope that he would grow too, strong and healthy, just like them.
*
The rain dribbled down Dan’s windows, hitting the glass when he received an alert warning that a hurricane was about to hit New York.
The clock struck 12, and the breeze turned into a wind, finally, in a storm. Dan looked out of the window, seeing the trees swaying violently, about to be ripped out of the ground. The glass shook, and stepping back, he locked himself in the bedroom, squeezing his eyes shut.
Hours passed before Dan opened his eyes, reviving from the sleep.
Shivering, he leaned on the window sill, looking out at the vacant street, shut doors, and knocked over garbage cans. Suddenly something hit him as if someone struck him with a bat.
“The daisies!” shriek left Dan’s mouth.
He had forgotten to bring them inside. Running outside, Dan saw the pots shattered on the streets, the daises – ripped from the pot – lying next to them. He kneeled, gathering them while tears burned his eyes. He cried on the ruined flowers like a mother mourning her kids.
The following morning, as soon as the first light hit the ground, Dan rushed to the store and bought a new, large pot – dark blue, adorned with carved ornaments. But moving them in the new pot didn’t bring daisies back to life. Nor did watering and taking care of them like he used to. Dan poured his love into them, but the daises had died on that day – they never lifted their heads, their white petals began falling, and the stems got covered with cracks and gaps like a grooved desert.
He had to let them go.
Sliding his hands on the pot, Dan slightly pushed it. It fell off the balcony and into a storm drain. He watched them slowly disappearing, just like their beauty had vanished.
Turning, he wiped the tear off his cheek.
“There’s nothing I could do,” Dan murmured, trying to weaken the overwhelming sense of guilt. “The damage has been done.”
*
The deep orange and red leaves fluttered from the trees, layering colorful carpet over the streets.
The water drops damped the soil in the blue pot. The tulips had spread their petals under the faint sunshine, letting it soak their dark rosy and vivid red heads.
The doorbell rang, and Dan opened the door. Sally wound her arms around him. He hugged back before her eyes landed on the tulips, and she walked up to them.
“They are beautiful,” she said.
“I feel so guilty for killing the daisies,” Dan muttered.
Her eyes narrowed with empathy.
“It’s okay,” her smile turned softer. “The tulips are no less beautiful than the daises were.”
Dan looked up at her, feeling the unfamiliar serenity melting into him.
“The same love doesn’t come twice,” he said, teary. “I had to let go of the past love to let in a new one. I realized that I couldn’t fix what was ruined, just like I couldn’t fix our relationship. I didn’t want to accept that I had to let go of you. But now, I have finally moved on, and I’m ready to work on new relationships instead of dwelling on the past.”
Sally smiled, hugging Dan. They stood with tulips next to them, leaves falling behind the window.
Sally’s heels clinked across the street as she walked, her head lowered, thoughts clouding her mind.
She stopped, staring at the ground. The daisies had grown out of the storm drain. Still small, the flowers had raised their heads, their white petals sparkling in the light.
“How beautiful,” Sally whispered.
She gently picked one daisy up, watching it with a smile for a few seconds. Then she turned, walking home.