Growth.
Growth is something every human, and every living thing for that matter, goes through. Whether it’s mental growth or physical growth, it happens. For most, if you get knocked down multiple times and fail countless times, you’ll keep coming back every single time, stronger than ever.
A couple of days ago, I was pulling weeds from the backyard in the beaming sun, ripping dandelions from the dirt, away from their comfort in the soil, tearing their roots along with it. I was nearly done and sweating badly, so I was relieved when I pulled out the last weed from the grass and tossed it in the yard debris bin.
I took my gloves off, blowing sweat from my face as I pushed the bin back towards the street. I came walking back into the yard as my 4-year-old daughter, Hannah, came running out onto the grass, seemingly looking for me. I smiled as she asked me sweetly “Can we get ice cream?”
I felt the wind breeze across my neck. I was tired, and I figured I could reward myself. Plus, my wife was at work today, so it was my sole responsibility to take care of Hannah for the day. I leaned down to her height as I said, “Sure, we can go get ice cream.”
Hannah celebrates loudly as she runs back into the house. I follow closely behind, chuckling. I lower my head as I wipe the sweat off my forehead and notice something close to the house. I remove my forearm from my head as I squint through the utter brightness of the sun and look through the short grass.
It was a sunflower.
I didn’t remember my wife planting any sunflowers out in the backyard before, and I certainly didn’t remember seeing any sunflowers when I first came out here. I was confused, but as my daughter was waiting impatiently for me, I reached down and pulled the sunflower from the ground, no roots coming along with it. I hadn’t noticed, and I kept it in my hand as we went out to the car, throwing it in the yard debris once I made it out.
It had taken 6 minutes to get to the closest Baskin-Robbins, longer than Hannah anticipated, but she luckily enjoyed her ice cream there. She got bubblegum ice cream, and I got chocolate; generic, but I’ve always been fond of it.
Before, Hannah’s favorite ice cream flavor was vanilla, and then it slowly progressed to being bubblegum.
That’s growth.
We got home a little bit later, much to Hannah’s dismay, as she had wanted to go to the movies and see the new Minions movies, to the point where I had to make it clear to her that there weren’t any more available showtimes for the rest of that day.
She was at first upset and crying over not being able to see the movie that day. Now she understood and got over it.
That’s growth.
Once she calmed down, I began to go into the living room, and I had to pass by the back door, but as I was walking by it, I saw something through the glass. I took a hesitant step back, peaking out the door, and saw it.
In the dirt again, in the same place, was the sunflower. The same one I had pulled out earlier.
I got confused, almost feeling dreadful as I saw it. I slid open the back door and stepped out into the yard as I approached it, examining it. It was indeed the same sunflower. In the same exact spot, the same exact height.
I was still confused, as plants don’t take that long to instantly grow back and be in good shape, and this actually freaked me out. I don’t know why, but it was unnatural. I grabbed hold of the sunflower again, digging my fingers into the ground to grip the roots. I didn’t feel any roots. This alarmed me, and I pulled it out hard enough to try and pull them out, but as I ripped the flower from the dirt, no roots came along with it.
I dropped the sunflower to the ground and got an idea. I went back into the house, closing the door behind me, and going to the counter where I had left my gloves. Hannah followed suit behind me.
“Daddy, what are you doing?” She asks me as I slide the gloves on. I look at her and smile.
“I need to dig into the ground and remove some roots so this sunflower won’t keep growing,” I say to her, the best I could so she would understand. I start going toward the back door again as she puts on a confused expression.
“What are roots?” She asks me, practically on my heels. I turn back to her as I start to slide open the back door, thinking of what to say for a moment.
“Plants basically need them to grow. Without roots, the plant can’t grow,” I open the door completely, and I step back onto the patio. Hannah stood in the doorway, watching. I approached the spot where the sunflower was, putting my eyes on it. My heart sank when I saw the same sunflower in the same position.
I stopped moving for a moment, in a state of confusion and shock. How could it have grown back already? I didn’t feel afraid, but there was something lingering inside of me that was telling me that something was wrong with it. I heard Hannah say something to me, but I didn’t respond. It was like I forgot how to speak.
I quickly snapped out of it, sighing as I got onto my knees and started digging into the ground, attempting to dig far enough to see if there were any roots, to satisfy my uncertainty. It was taking a while, and it was clear that using my hands to dig into the ground was going to take forever. I got up, remembering the shovel I had stored in my garage.
I walked back into the house, passing by Hannah, and went toward the garage, forgetting to close the back door behind me.
Forgetting to close the back door.
Forgetting to close the back door.
Forgetting to close the back door.
Once I had gotten the shovel, I instantly moved back into the house and rushed to the backyard. Upon making it into the kitchen, I realized Hannah was no longer in sight. She wasn’t standing by the doorway anymore, worrying me at first until I figured she had just gone out back, and I didn’t think about it too much.
I went back onto the patio, at first searching for where Hannah was. I didn’t see her. I didn’t hear her say anything either, which was out of character for her. I looked to the spot where the sunflower was. I screamed, dropping my shovel, and was absolutely horrified.
There was blood dripping off the sunflower, with Hannah’s shirt beside it, covered in blood. I didn’t see any remains, but there was one thing I knew, and it was that Hannah was killed.
I couldn’t move for what felt like hours. I had let Hannah out of my sight for 10 seconds to get the shovel, and I came back to her being dead. I didn’t know how to tell my wife, I didn’t know how to tell the rest of my family, but something was telling me that the sunflower had something to do with it, that it was the culprit. I kept telling myself I was crazy when I had that thought. Who- or what else could’ve killed her, though?
I slowly bent and picked the shovel back up, trembling as I moved toward the sunflower, the horror creeping into me second by second. I held the shovel up high and plunged it into the dirt, digging dip into it and tossing dirt to the side like an animal, searching for the roots so I could pull them out to get this god-forsaken sunflower out of my fucking backyard.
I should’ve gone looking for Hannah first, but this flower didn’t sit right with me. I needed to see if there were any roots or not, I needed to see how it kept growing back so quickly. It also needed to go.
I continued digging until I made a hole deep enough to get the roots completely out. I slammed the shovel onto the concrete and made it onto my knees, and even through the tears in my eyes, the distraught I was in about Hannah, I looked into the hole, looking for its roots. I didn’t see any roots, though. It was completely absent from the flower.
Instead, I saw my daughter’s- my little girl’s bloody hands wrapped around the bottom of the flower, acting as the root.
Growth.