“The more decisions you are forced to make alone, the more you are aware of your freedom to choose.” ~ Thornton Wilder
I have this meandering vine growing in my back yard. I don’t recall blossoms on it in previous years. This is my third spring here. My daughter who is also my plant expert has identified it as Carolina jessamine. It has a soothing sweet fragrance and as you can see its color matches my dandelions. I love it. I wonder why it chose to bloom this year and not the past two. Daughter # 1 could probably answer that for me, too. Maybe it’s been taking in whatever it needs in order to once again show the world its stuff. Like me.
(Pause for a little research.)
It blooms best in full sun and with plenty of water. Mine is in partial shade and we had several months of drought the past couple of years. It was stressed. Like me. Unlike me, it can’t decide when it’s going to bloom. Come to think of it, it’s not so unlike me. For the better part of the past four plus years I haven’t been able to decide to bloom either. But now I can. Did I decide to or did it just happen? A little of both, I think.
There was a time when I felt too wounded to make decisions, yet make them I did because I had no choice. I was forced to make decisions just as I was forced to get a divorce and live alone. I can’t imagine not having the freedom that I have now–to choose or not to choose. I like it.