More Than a Flower | Teen Ink

More Than a Flower

June 25, 2013
By ChrisplussTina BRONZE, Port Jervis, New York
ChrisplussTina BRONZE, Port Jervis, New York
3 articles 1 photo 0 comments

Once there was a flower. It resided in a vast field, among many other exotic and vibrant flowers. Yet this poor flower was a simple daisy. Its smooth, white petals were stark white and its center was a lovely, muted yellow.
This flower was indeed a sight, but those who came across the field of flower usually stopped to stare at more ornate blooms.
One spring day, a trouble-minded youth escaped into the woods and came across this field of flowers. Wandering in the vast colors and scents, she finally felt at peace. Then she stopped abruptly. She stared at the daisy, in its simple beauty. Delicately, she plucked the stem from the ground and walked towards home.
She arrived home, late in the evening. Her household chores have not been taken care of, and since she left troubled, she ignored the chores altogether.
Inspired from her walk, the girl decided to share with her mother her feeling of resolve and regained contentment. Once her mother, who was rather stressed from keeping house and picking up the slack that her daughter didn't manage, saw her daughter and this daisy she became outraged.
"Picking flowers?! You leave the house in an outburst of emotions, run off to God knows where, leave everything I've simply asked you to do to pick flowers??" Her mother yelled.
The girl opened her mouth to defend herself, but tersely her mother cut her off,
"I can only do so much around this house. I can't have you running about willy-nilly! You're too old for me to even be telling you this!"
The girl shrank back, boldly replying, "Then stop telling me."
Furious now, her mother seized her daughter's wrist, tearing the daisy from her palm.
The girl yelled for her mother to stop. She had been speaking to the beautiful flower all the way home. It may as well have been a recording of the girl's feelings.
Her mother tore the head of the daisy off, wrinkling the petals and throwing the stem aside. By now the girl was tearing up at the sight.
"You'll be fine," said the woman. "It's just a flower."


The author's comments:
I relate very deeply with the girl in the story. Since I live on a farm, often I get stressed with the demanding chores and simply wish to run off. This was what I assumed would happen to me if I did such a thing. I never did. Instead I bit the bullet and continue on in my routine.

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