Remembering Daffodile

In The Garden of Reconcile, Daffodil the garden flower sat, her thin and stringy roots buried deep into the moist and fertile soil Gardner had placed her in. It was just past noon when the honey bees buzzed into the garden. Politely they greeted each of the flowers, all except for Daffodil.
Daffodil recalled not too long ago when the honey bees used to feud over who would get to her sweet pollen first. "I am the eldest therefore I have the right to collect the sweet pollen first," would say one honey bee. "I am the strongest and carry the most therefore I should be the first one let to Daffodil's sweet pollen," another one would argue. "No fair!" protested the smallest honey bee. "I am the smallest and never get as much as all of the others therefore I should be the first one to collect the sweet pollen from Daffodil." And so every day, the honey bees would argue. That was until one day when Gardener came home with three more potted plants.
From that day on, no honey bee ever fought for Daffodil's pollen. They simply fluttered over to the other flowers that were, in Daffodil's opinion, much prettier. For example, there was Dahlia. Dahlia was a beautiful flower; she loved to show off her numerous layers of petals colored and elegant red. There also was Gloriosa Lily, her thin red and yellow petals pointed skywards, warmly greeting any honey bee who happened to glide by. And then there was Tulip, who was Daffodil's favorite flower and the flower she loathed the most, all at the same time. Tulip was an exquisite flower; her petals were colored an airy pink. Those petals folded neatly while she slept and when she was awake, they were full and soft and inviting.
Daffodil envied them. She envied the way they were so confident in their petals, holding their stems high so all the visitors of The Garden of Reconcile could see. Meanwhile Daffodil would sit in the soil, her stem slumped and ashamed. She envied the other flower's brilliant colors and hated her own white color. White, how boring! Daffodil would think to herself.
But most of all she envied how the bees always dashed over to the other flowers when they arrived. And only when Dahlia, Gloriosa Lily, and Tulip's pollen supply would run scarce would the bees decide to collect pollen from Daffodil's flower.
Daffodil guesses that there must have been something wrong with her. Maybe her pollen did not satisfy the bees and that is why they did not gather from her flower. A lot of the times she wondered if her appearance had anything to do with the bee's pollen preference. Maybe she was too ugly. Maybe her petals drooped too much. Maybe they didn't like her color. Sometime Daffodil thought it must have been her personality. Maybe was not as comical as she thought she had been. Maybe they didn't like the way she talked. Maybe they thought she was too boring. Or maybe the bees thought that she was just odd.
She would wonder for hours, mostly when the other flowers were asleep and the bees were back in their hives, safe and sound. The moon would be bright in the night sky. Daffodil would stare at the round orb, surrounded by its millions of glowing friends and wished that she was the moon. That way the stars could never leave her like the bees did.
Daffodil was the most content during the night. She could be alone with her thoughts, no one there to bother her. And though her deepest secrets came out during these hours of darkness, it was her favorite time. She may have existed by the day but she lived by the night. In the moon's ray of white light, she felt alive.
The bees continued to file into the garden. "Good afternoon, Gloriosa Lily," greeted one of the small creatures in a high pitched, childish voice. "Good morning little honey bee," Gloriosa Lily purred, pointing her flower in the bee's direction. "My, what beautiful petals you have, Gloriosa Lily," said the honey bee.
Daffodil sighed at the compliment; no one ever told her that they thought her petals were beautiful. Gloriosa Lily must have heard because she pointed her petals accusingly at Daffodil. "Is there a problem, Daffodil dear?" she asked crudely. "N-no of course not, Gloriosa Lily," Daffodil answered quickly. Gloriosa Lily rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the honey bee.
Across the garden, a bee gathered a handful of sweet pollen from Dahlia's flower. Quickly he thanked her and took flight towards Daffodil's side of the garden. "Good afternoon," she shouted upwards toward the bee. He stopped suddenly and peered down nervously at Daffodil's flower. "Oh, um, good afternoon, Daffodil," he returned and began to fly away again. "Little honey bee I have plenty of pollen. I'd be glad to share some with you," she told him. He glanced over a Tulip anxiously, "Why thank you, Daffodil but as you can see I already have my hands full." Daffodil waved her petals anyways, "That's quite all right, next time." The honey bee nodded, "Sure, next time."
Daffodil watched the bee speed away noticing that the he had more than enough room to accommodate some of her pollen. And sure enough, he zipped right over to Tulip, joining the line of other honey bees waiting their turn to collect her pollen.
For the next ten minutes, Daffodil waited impatiently for any honey bee to buzz by. But none came. She passed the time by watching the line of honey bees waiting for Tulip's pollen. And then finally, one proud bee yelled out, "That's it, boys! Tulip is all out of pollen!" A chorus of disappointed moans and remarks travelled throughout the garden.
Suddenly, Daffodil perked up. This was her chance to persuade a bee to collect her pollen. She straightened her stem and waved her petals at all of the disappointed bees flying past her. "Good afternoon," she would say mocking the confidence the other flowers always had. Some bees returned the greeting, mumbling a, "Good afternoon, Daffodil." and carrying on right past her. Others didn't even bother to say anything.
Daffodil was slightly discouraged by the response, but pressed on. "Oh, hello, I have plenty of pollen to share. Would you like some?" she would ask. A few answered, politely rejecting her offer and continued back to the hive.
Towards the middle of the large mass of bees, an empty handed bee swooped down to Daffodil. "Greetings, Daffodil," it said cheerfully. "Hello, little bee," she returned, surprised that she did not have to throw herself at this one to attract its attention. The bee looked around, nervously ringing his tiny hands, "Well it seems that I haven't had much luck today and I was wondering if I could have a bit of your sweet pollen." Daffodil's petals shivered with delight, "Take all you can carry!"
The bee smiled, landing lightly on Daffodil's delicate white petals and began gathering the pollen from her flower. "So how has your day been, little bee?" asked Daffodil. "Alright," the bee replied with much less enthusiasm as before. "That's great," Daffodil said.
And then she realized that she didn't know how to carry on a conversation, it had been so long. So she began desperately raking her brain for something to say. "So, um, is there anything interesting happening at the hive lately? It's been a while since I've heard any news," Daffodil said hesitantly. "Nothing, really," responded the honey bee.
Daffodil recognized the curt reply and immediately ended the conversation afraid that if she said anything else that she would drive the bee away. So silently, the bee picked the pollen and Daffodil allowed him. She didn't even notice when he had left, he didn't even say goodbye.
Once again, Daffodil's stem was hunched over and she let her petals droop. "Aw, what's wrong, Daffodil?" asked Tulip smugly. "Nothing," grumbled Daffodil turning her flower in the other direction. "Poor Daffodil, no one wants her pollen," Gloriosa Lily said pitifully and Dahlia cackled at the remark. Anger boiled inside Daffodil. But instead of firing back, Daffodil tucked her flower into her stem. The flowers just laughed, enjoying her melancholy mood.
That was when Daffodil heard the most terrible sound. A sound she dreaded to hear. It wasn't the catty laughter of the other flowers, but a sound that howled in the sky.
Suddenly, the laughter stopped. Tulip gasped dramatically, "Uh, oh! Daffodil, do you know what that sound is?" Dahlia leaned towards Tulip, "Tulip is that what I think that is?" Tulip paused for suspense, "Why I think it is, Dahlia. Wind must be coming!" The trio shrieked hysterically and then broke into uncontrollable laughter.
The sound grew closer and Daffodil became nervous. "Better hold on tight, Daffodil! Wind's getting closer," taunted Tulip.
Daffodil dug her roots deeper into the soil. It seemed almost slippery in her state of panic. She tightened all the veins in her stem and flower, waiting for the impact.
Wind, swept through the Garden of Reconcile, showing no mercy for Daffodil who was not strong enough to stay grounded. Wind howled and growled menacingly, letting its presence be known to everybody in its path. Daffodil desperately wished she could scurry to the safety of burrow like the small rodents that hung around the garden. Or that she could at least latch onto something-anything- to keep from blowing away. Most of all, she wished that her roots were strong enough and thick enough to keep her grounded like the other flowers.
Wind roared, lifting fallen leaves from the ground and tossing them through the air. Debris containing small pebbles, dirt, and mulch whipped past Daffodil's flowers. She desperately shifted from left to right to avoiding the blows.
The gust blew nearer and nearer until finally it was on top of Daffodil. She clutched the soil tightly with her noodle-like roots hoping that maybe this time they were going to be strong enough to keep her planted. But Wind was too strong and he blew harder. And Daffodil hung onto the ground as long as she could until her stem had bent so far backwards that her flower was touching the soil.
Daffodil felt herself give. Her roots could not handle any more or they would most definitely be severed from her stem. So she let go. Immediately, she was sucked into the wind. It tossed her and twirled her and spun her around like she was inside the mouth of a whirlpool. The only sounds she could hear were the terrible howling of Wind and the haunting shrieks and giggles of Tulip, Dahlia, and Gloriosa Lily. Daffodil felt tears pricking her eyes. Violent sobs erupted from her throat and painful tears slid down her petals. Once again she felt as if a crushing weight had been placed on her shoulders and it was too much to handle. Why me? She wondered. Why do they hate me?
Wind finally spit her out of his whirlpool and roughly throwing her to the ground. The flowers then proceeded to call her names. They laughed about her petals and how thin her roots were. "What a sorry excuse for a flower this one is," said Tulip. "If we're lucky this time, Gardener won't try to replant her again but toss her in the trash where she rightfully belongs!" Gloriosa Lily laughed. And there Daffodil sat, in the middle of it, blaming herself for all the hatred.
That night when Gardener arrived back home, she took a pitiful glance at Daffodil. Gently, she picked her up with soft fingers and dug a hole in the soil adjacent to her previous spot in the garden. Daffodil heard Dahlia make a gagging sound causing the other two to giggle. "How long is it going to take that old woman to finally throw away that piece of trash?" asked Gloriosa Lily angrily.
Daffodil tried blocking out their hateful remarks but it next to impossible. When slumber overtook the flowers, Daffodil remains awake, staring up at the glowing orb and its friends. Her petals were crusty with dry tears and her flower was stained with dirt. Daffodil stared up at the night sky for a few minutes, or maybe it was hours, she couldn't tell thinking about how it always seemed like there was something negative that had to happen in Daffodil's life. If it wasn't the bees that ignored her, it was the three other garden flowers taunting her. And if that wasn't enough to bring Daffodil down, Wind would surely finish the job. Daffodil felt like she would never find harmony, even when things are quiet, she was always waiting for the next surprise to jump out at her. She knew that if she let her guard down, the surprise would get the best of her, therefore she was always alert.
She heard the rustling of leaves and bent her flower in the direction of the sound to identify the nighttime visitor. Out came a pudgy, green caterpillar, chewing slowly on a small leaf. "Hello, Caterpillar. What are doing awake at such a late hour?" asked Daffodil. Without turning to the flower Caterpillar said, "I could ask the same of you, Daffodil." Daffodil turned away; staring back up at the moons and its friends and let her petals drooped, "Just thinking." Caterpillar chewed absent mindedly on the leaf, examining the quiet garden. "Think about what, my dear?"
Caterpillar was a wise old creature. Most every insect and plant in the garden knew her for her kind and gentle words. Her head was filled with knowledge that everyone looked up to and trusted. So Daffodil decided to confront the old insect, "It's the flowers..." Caterpillar took another nibble of her leaf, chewed slowly, and then swallowed. "Do you mean Tulip and her friends?" she asked. Daffodil sighed, "But it's not just them, Caterpillar. It's also the honey bees and Wind." She felt tears forming inside of her, "Why doesn't anybody like me?"
For the first time, Caterpillar turned to Daffodil. Her glassy eyes rolled over Daffodil's pathetic appearance. "What have they done now, dear?" she asked softly. Daffodil took a deep breath and told Caterpillar the tale of her hardships she had experience since those three flowers had enter the garden. "And I don't understand how just three flowers could affect me so much," she sniffled. There was a short silence. "It's not fair, is it?" asked Caterpillar. Daffodil shook her flower, "I feel like I'm stuck, but time and everything around me is still moving." And for the second time that day, Daffodil found herself with tears running down her petals, soaking the soil beneath her. Soon, her sobs turned to gasps for air, like Daffodil was suffocating underwater. And that was exactly how she felt.
"If you are going to cry you should at least shed your tears on someone worthwhile," Caterpillar said simply. Daffodil turned her flower to the old caterpillar and look at her aged face behind blurry, tear filled eyes, "What?" Caterpillar paused, wiggling in a circle around Daffodil, scanning her up and down with her eyes. "Those flowers who taunt you, those bees that ignore you, that wind that keeps knocking you down? They are hardly worth your tears, dear. Now I've seen many things in my life worth crying for and I know that those scornful creatures will never be worth your tears," said Caterpillar. She came to a haul at the base of Daffodil's stem and peered up at her flowers with squinted eyes, "Do you understand that, Daffodil?"
"Does it mean that I'm just overreacting?" Daffodil sniffed. "Oh dear, not at all," Caterpillar reassured, "It means that all of those bullies that have been bringing you down don't deserve all the time you give to them when you cry," she explained. Daffodil just shook her head, "I'm not sure I understand."
There was a long pause when the only sounds were the chirps of crickets and the rustle of leaves. Caterpillar stared up at Daffodil with a profound expression. "Would you like a word of advice, Daffodil?" asked Caterpillar finally. Daffodil hesitated. Caterpillar glanced downwards at the soil underneath Daffodil, she pointed to the ground, "Your roots. They're weak, they never be able to hold you down, dear." Daffodil peered longingly downwards at the soil which covered her roots that Caterpillar described. "Yes, they've haven't really grown for a long time now," she agreed. "Do you know why?" asked Caterpillar. Daffodil shrugged her leaves, "I don't know. Why do you ask?"
Caterpillar turned her head and wandered around the open space in front of Daffodil, "I was just wondering what were to happen if those roots were stronger." Daffodil watched the caterpillar skeptically, "What are you saying?" Caterpillar turned to the flower, "What are roots, Daffodil?" Daffodil pondered. To her, roots had always been those dreadfully embarrassing strings at the end of her stem. To her, they were useless. They were just a way to receive water from the soil. "Roots absorb the mineral salts and water from the soil," she said. Caterpillar nodded, "And...?"
"And they keep you grounded?" as Daffodil said the words, a warm smile crept onto Caterpillar's mouth. "Exactly," she said. Confused, Daffodil shook her head, "What does this have to do with the flowers?"
"You don't see, do you, dear? Your roots, they define you, they are you. And from what I see, you don't know yourself very well," said Caterpillar, her smile widening. "Caterpillar, are you saying that if I know myself, that maybe, just maybe, my roots will grow?" Daffodil asked almost in disbelief. Could it be that simple? "That is what I am saying, dear," replied Caterpillar. "So the question is: Who are you Daffodil?"
And then Daffodil's confidence in herself fell away. It turned out that the simple question was much more complex than she had known. "Who am I?" repeated Daffodil. After a moment of thoughtful silence, Daffodil turned to Caterpillar with a pitiful look. "Let me help you get started," said Caterpillar. "Well for one, who have an impeccable sense of humor," she noted. Caterpillar glanced up at Daffodil's white petals that began to slightly redden. "What?" asked Caterpillar. "You don't think so?" Quickly Caterpillar shook her petals, "No, no, it's just- no." Caterpillar narrowed her eyes at the stuttering flower but continued anyways. "You are also an extremely driven young flower. You set your standards high, Daffodil, that's a good thing," Caterpillar said. Then she looked expectantly at Daffodil, "Well? It's your turn. Name something!"
Daffodil looked around the garden nervously. "I guess...I guess that I'm sort of nice," she said sheepishly. "Sort of?" exclaimed Caterpillar. Daffodil jumped, fearing the insect's loud voice would wake the garden's creatures, but they did not stir. "You endure daily abuse from the flowers yet you've never said an even remotely rude or disrespectful word to them. Why is that?" she asked. Daffodil shrugged her leaves, "I would never want to be mean to another creature, even if they are to me."
"Why?"
Daffodil hesitated on her response, "Because no one deserves to be said."
"Well," said Caterpillar, "I do believe that we just added to new traits to the list: kind and compassionate, check."
And just as the caterpillar said those two words, Daffodil felt the most amazing sensation. It wasn't uncomfortable or awkward, two very familiar sensations that Daffodil often felt, but it was warm and fuzzy, like the heat of the sun's rays during a cold winter day. "What's happening?" she asked, slightly startled by this pleasant feeling. She peered down at the soil that shook and stirred. The smile reappeared on Caterpillar's face, "It's your roots, Daffodil. They're growing."
Excitedly, Daffodil giggled for the first time in what seemed like forever. "I can do this," she whispered to herself. "Well let's not stop here, lets continue!" shouted Caterpillar, but this time, Daffodil didn't care who heard. She was searching her brain, running through the last week's events trying to pick out something that would define her. The memory of four days ago when a whole trail of ants came marching through the garden. A large downpour had just ended and the water was nearly midway up Daffodil's stem. The ants went asking around the garden asking if anyone had any food to spare for the colony for their home had been destroyed in the rains. "I could offer you my leaves," called Daffodil. "It's not much, but it is the only food I have." The ants accepted her generous offer and even though it hurt for the leaves to be pulled from her stem, Daffodil was happy to do the deed.
"I guess one would describe me as generous," Daffodil told Caterpillar more as a question. "You guess? Dear, you need to know," Caterpillar said. Daffodil took a deep breath, it seemed alien to speak of herself so highly, but she said it anyways, "I am generous." Caterpillar turned her ear towards the flower, "I am very aged, flower, you are going to have to talk louder than that." Daffodil straightened her stem and lifted her head skyward, "I am generous."
The warm feeling returned to the base of her stem and the soil wiggled beneath her. Daffodil felt another bunch of roots growing thick and strong beneath her. "It's working!" she squealed. "Yes, yes, keep going!" encouraged Caterpillar. Daffodil quickly calmed her excitement and dove deeper into her mind "I've always loved art. Gardener loves to paint all of us here in the garden. Drawing has become an enjoyable hobby of mine. Something at night, when everybody is asleep, I'll draw pictures in the soil just for myself." Caterpillar nodded, "Good, good and that would make you..."
"Creative?" Caterpillar threw her skinny arms in the arms in the air, "I asked for a response, not a question."
"Right," nodded Daffodil. "I am creative." The warm feeling returned.
And it returned several times that night as Caterpillar and Daffodil listed off multiple other positive traits of hers. By sunset, Daffodil knew exactly who she was. She was kind, generous, creative, compassionate, humorous, ambitious, trustworthy ... she was Daffodil. Her roots had grown and thick, possibly stronger and thicker than any of Tulip's roots. A new air surrounded her flower, an air of confidence and excitement. Daffodil was looking forward to the arrival of the bees.
At noon when the mass of bees buzzed in, Daffodil stood tall with a straight stem and a flower lifted higher in the air, higher than Tulip's. Out of the corner of her eyes, Daffodil could feel Tulip's gaze on her, and for once, Daffodil didn't care. She allowed the other flowers to wonder at her newly found confidence. They would soon see, thought Daffodil.
Several bees looked Daffodil's way, surprised at her posture. Some of them must have been attracted by the new atmosphere because they swooped down and greeted Daffodil. "Hello, Daffodil. Beautiful day today, wouldn't you say?" one bee asked. "Yes, I do agree," Daffodil said. "Would you like some pollen, little honey bee?" she asked without hesitation. The bee nodded anxiously and flower allowed him to her pollen. Throughout his time collecting the sweet pollen, they carried out a conversation, only small talk about news in the hive, but it was a start for Daffodil. When the bee had collected all he could, he thanked Daffodil and buzzed back to the hive.
After that, many other bees stopped by Daffodil's flower. They would greet her, collect her pollen, talk to her, thank her, and then fly away happily, their arms full of her sweet pollen. Once even, one of the bees in Tulip's line must have gotten tired of waiting. So it zipped out of line and straight over to Daffodil. "Little bee, you don't want any of Tulip's pollen?" asked Daffodil. The bee shook its head, "I hate to wait in line. Besides I'd rather get my pollen from your flower, you're much nicer than Tulip."
When the bees had left, Tulip, Gloriosa Lily, and Dahlia tried accusing Daffodil of stealing their customers. Daffodil only shrugged her leaves, "I did not steal them, silly flowers, they simply chose me over you." Dahlia huffed and crossed her leaves over her stem, "Don't get so arrogant just yet, Daffodil. I'm sure Wind will put you back in your place." But Daffodil only smiled, "We will see then."
Three hours later, she heard it coming. In the distance, Wind was howling, letting its presence be known to all. "Uh-oh, Daffodil, do you hear that?" giggled Gloriosa Lily. Panic began to rise in Daffodil. What happens if she wouldn't be able to hold her ground? What if her roots weren't strong enough? She could fail, she could have stuck her nose in the other flowers faces and she may have been wrong about herself. What would happen then?
"Psst." At first, the sound was so quiet that Daffodil thought she must have imagined the noise. "Psst." There it was again. Daffodil turned her flower from side to side searching for the source of the noise. "Daffodil," called a familiar voice quietly. Daffodil gasped, "Caterpillar? What are you doing?" Caterpillar raised her shriveled fingers to her lips, "Hush! I came to remind you who you are." Daffodil swallowed nervously and nodded to the old creature. "You are Daffodil, not anybody else. Not Tulip, not Gloriosa Lily, not Dahlia, not anybody else. You are Daffodil," she said. And then Caterpillar was gone, disappearing into the brush.
The screeching of Wind grew louder. Daffodil took a deep breath and silently reassured herself that she was capable of staying grounded. She saw Wind in the distance, just beyond the white fence that guarded the Garden of Reconcile. "I am strong," she whispered. Wind flew high in the air and then nose dived back down toward the ground. "I am beautiful," Daffodil continued. At the last second, Wind swooped upwards and continued its course, straight toward the garden. "I am intelligent." There was a crooked smile on his lips that said he was fully confident in his capability of finishing her off. "I am fearless."
As ferocious Wind blew through the garden, the pleasant feeling returned. She felt her roots dig into the ground, but this time they were there to stay. Again, the other flowers shrieked and laughed, all of them expecting her blow away with Wind once again. Wind seemed stronger than normal. Daffodil knew he was testing her. But this test, she was going to pass. He pushed through The Garden of Reconcile, ripping leaves from bushes and picking up rocks from the ground. He hurled them in Daffodil's direction, but she swiveled side to side, easily dodging the debris.
It wasn't long before Wind realized that he would not win this time. So he retreated, dying down, pulling back, and returning to where he came from.
The dust dissipated, revealing three astonished flowers, their petals frazzled and hanging low. "H-how?" asked Tulip staring at Daffodil whose flower was nearly untouched and roots still planted firmly in the ground. Daffodil narrowed her eyes at the three of them, "I used to be afraid of all of you. I never knew what curveball you would throw at me next. I used to spend hours crying about you, about the bees, about Wind, too. And then I realized who was worth my time and who wasn't," she turned her flower to the spot where Caterpillar had stood and reminded her who she was. "I also realized something else. I realized that my roots were weak because I'd lost myself. And with a little help, I found myself again. And now I'm here to stay."
Many months later, Daffodil was staring up into the night sky, watching the moon wander through the black sky. She stared up at its friends, the stars and then looked down at her own. Many new flowers were beginning to grow around her and they loved her. They looked up to her and asked her for help, just like she had done to Caterpillar.
Still, night was her favorite time but now for a different reason. Now she had others to share it with. Surrounding her were many other creatures of the night: crickets, nocturnal rodents, many of her new floral friends, and even three other flowers that were once her enemies. And right by her side sat the most important friend of them all. She was a plump little green insect that went by the name of Caterpillar, who once helped Daffodil remember who she was.

THE END.