Petunias

                     There’s an unopened sack of flour, and an unopened jar of active dry yeast.

And there’s the dried hibiscus powder, the vanilla syrup, and another can of coconut milk. 

Used only once in an attempt to make a copycat Starbucks Pink Drink.

But the copycat version was not as good as the real thing, try as we might.

Copycat versions rarely are.  Better to try and make something original.

Sometimes when my eyes fall to that pantry, the mishmash of stuff waiting to be used,

It takes my self-esteem down a few notches.

“Why haven’t you gotten around to using that yet?”

“What a waste of money,” my inner critic says.

The evidence of my neglect, all staring me in the face.

But the truth is, none of these ingredients have expired.

They are not mad at me, or disappointed.

They’re all just sitting patiently on the shelf, content to wait.

They do not care that they are not immaculately organized, stacked neatly or labelled.

Maybe it helps to personify these things, imagine that they are looking back at me and saying kind things that I find it hard to tell myself.

Like, “It’s okay. We’ll wait for you.”

“Just go outside already, while the weather is still glorious.”

It’s true that there are not many months in the Midwest where I can sit outside on the patio, simply admiring what is right in my own backyard.

Those amazing two-toned purple petunias, the way they open up and like a megaphone, call you to just stop and admire their beauty.

The items in the pantry say, “Go on, get out there. We will wait.”  

So I find my chair on the patio and take some deep breaths. I listen to the birds chirping their morning songs.

And while so much is not right with the world, this moment is.

It’s what you’re looking for…

Moments of contentment, peace.