Silent Souls

Have you ever sat in a garden and waited, sitting so still, for flowers to bloom, to open and close?

I used to do that a lot as a child. Just sit, wait and watch flowers; each night a different flower, I called them moonflowers. They opened all of sudden, shaking a bit as if they waited for humans to fall asleep, so they would wake up while they slept, and I knew then like I believe now, everything, everything has a soul.

They would shake a bit, stretch, and open up a bit, petal by petal, making sure no noisy humans were awake to watch the magic of nature as it changed and became full of soul. I’ve always loved that.

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Once I’ve seen them, I would laugh and greet them like old friends, talk a bit to them, water them if their sand was dry with my little red can, yawn in my white cotton nightgown and tiptoe back to the house, barefoot and happy, sometimes dirty. Dreaming of flowers, trees, animals, moons, sky, sun, wind, rain and all my silent friends, and they weren’t silent in my dreams.

I think I never believed I was one of the humans; childhood has that effect, it makes you feel like grownups have their world and children have their own.

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