I knew this would change everything, but as I stood there transfixed, I felt helpless.
Changes can be good, and sometimes they can be cruel. But what I wish most is that they wouldn't arrive like uninvited guests, catching us off guard. Yet, somehow, they always do. Why do changes come and go as they please? We struggle to accept the painful ones. But when they bring something joyful, like love, we cling to them with everything we have.
It all started the day I met my wife first. It was a charming morning.
The doorbell rang. I opened it. It was my next-door neighbour, a beauty, with hair loosely tied, and with a smile across her face, her eyes warm and steady, holding a quiet confidence A stranger, yet somehow familiar. There she stood, cradling a pot of radiant red rose
"Happy birthday!" she beamed.
"Who said it’s my birthday?" I asked, confused.
"Your mom did," she said, her smile fading slightly as if scolding me for not accepting the gesture properly.
"Oh... yeah, thanks!" I said awkwardly, trying to fix the moment with a lopsided grin.
I had never received flowers before, certainly not a whole rose plant!! Should I have said, "These are the most beautiful roses I’ve ever seen"? I looked at her thoughtfully as she walked away quietly.
I placed the pot on the balcony and returned to my usual activity, munching snacks and watching TV! My favourite pastime. My father’s least favourite habit. He never hid his frustration with me! Later, I found out there was a reason why she chose roses. I had once complimented her balcony roses without much thought. But she remembered and maintained her smile from that day. Soon, we became friends. She was the first person to ask me seriously, "Why not start a garden nursery? You love roses, your father owns some land, and flower shops always need fresh blooms."
She had a point. Her idea lit something inside me. I hoped it might even soften the daily storms with my father. I remember that evening, when my dad walked in without a word, with deliberate and angry steps, and turned off the TV. The crunch of my snack echoed, swallowed by the weight of his heavy silence
He sighed heavily and said,
“What are you staring at me for? Go get a job instead of lazing around like a ruffian!”
The words hit me like a sting of cold air. My jaw tightened. I clenched my jaw, shoved the snack plate away, and stormed into my room. I switched on the computer and stared blankly at the screen. How dare I imagine she will ever love someone like me… a jobless, day dreamer?
Dad's words echoed: "Get a haircut and shave! Look at you! No wonder no one's hiring you."
What was he thinking? Are jobs that easy to get? But I didn’t argue.
And one day, my roses bloomed. Hundreds of them. Scarlet, pink, ivory, even deep purples. I found myself selling the rose cuttings, watching as pieces of my darling potted plants found their new homes.
My father noticed. He didn't say much, but he didn’t switch off the TV anymore.
Now back to my next-door neighbour - I married her!
For a while, there was peace and happiness. But does peace last forever? Fate has its own plans.
One morning, I stepped into my nursery and froze. Men were smashing pots, ripping out plants, crushing petals.
I ran forward, yelling. "What are you doing?! Stop!"
I received a message a few days back from an official overseeing land development that the property has been sanctioned for commercial use and I should vacate in a month. I did not budge. And now they acted and how? I felt like the earth beneath me cracked. My hands shook.
"Noooo! Please! Please leave them alone! I’ll vacate! Just don’t hurt them anymore!" I begged.
They left eventually, but the damage had been done. The place looked like a battlefield. Each petal, each leaf—they had grown with my love. I had whispered to them, protected them from storms, shared my joys and sadness. And now, they lay broken. I stood there alone, trying not to cry. Why do the things we love get taken from us so easily? Days went by, and I was idling away again. Only difference was that I was married now and my wife was pregnant.
But nothing is permanent in life. An unexpected message changed my life again.
This was the message. “We heard what happened to your nursery. We have planned a Gardening program that guides children through establishing a garden, sowing seeds, and tending to plants. We’re opening a horticulture school as well for underprivileged kids. We have seen your garden. Are you interested in taking charge and teaching them?"—Green Future’s Trust
I froze. I read it again. Not just grow plants, but develop children’s future, those who needed a future as much as my rose plants.
My wife peeked over my shoulder, reading the message.
"Looks like your roses are about to bloom again?" She said with her usual smile.
I felt something shift inside me. Like a root stretching again after being cut.
"I never thought something broken could lead to something this beautiful," I whispered.
The nursery had been my world, my own world. But maybe... maybe that world could now belong to more people.
I turned to her. "We’re going to need a lot more flowerpots."
She grinned. "And probably fewer snacks."
I smiled. Outside, the last few roses stood tall in cracked soil. Bruised, but alive. Just like me.
I typed back slowly:
"Yes. I’d be honored to take charge and teach."
Because maybe it was never just about roses..... Maybe it was always about planting hope.
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