“The old woman paid no attention to the camellia until that morning, when a fleck of pink caught her eye. The single saucer-size blossom was more magnificent than she could ever have imagined. More beautiful than any rose she'd ever seen, it swayed in the morning breeze with such an air of royalty, the old woman felt the urge to curtsey in its presence.”
― Sarah Jio, The Last Camellia
***
I spy the blooms as we are driving down their driveway on our way home. Five acres of trees, a beautiful garden, their home, and flowers tucked in here and there. I tell him to stop and I hop out and pick this stem, knowing I don’t need to ask permission. I bring it home and place it in the tiny vase, for I am a sucker for tiny vases. One lone flower alone in a vase that shows off every detail, no other flowers to compete with its delicate beauty. I dig out my camera and spend time with the bloom and its waxy leaves and let the calm wash over me, understanding this is what moves me. These are the moments that make up my story.