Small Flowers on the Side of the Road

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Nobody planted me. I grew up alone among the cracks of asphalt and the dust of vehicles that pass by every day. My stalks may not be as tall as the flowers in the city park, but I stand strong. Every morning, I bloom. I open my lids as wide as I can to show that I exist.

But it turns out my beauty is disturbing. The wind came not only to greet me. He came fast, swaying my body left and right. He tore off my petals one by one. Not because nature hates me, but because there are human gazes that cast their hatred on the wind.

There are those who don't accept seeing me bloom. They just saw my beautiful color today. They never saw how my roots struggled through the hard asphalt. How should I survive the burning heat and pounding rain, without knowing about how I grow.

Every day they try, tearing down the small pillar that strengthens me. Looking for an opening to step on, or uproot me. As if by making me fall, they will feel higher.

From every ego they throw, I keep a wound that is never visible, the wound is silent.

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When it rains, I don't just get wet. I pray. Leaving a thousand hopes so that I can stay home to myself, remain a flower. And every time I save pain, resentment grows. But I chose not to respond with withering. I choose to keep blooming. Because my job is not to please those who hate. My job is just to keep standing, on the edge of this road, proving that even in the least considered places, life can still be beautiful.

Then I threw away all my pain. I let go of all my resentment. I believe that God will not take me this far only to bloom and wither. I accept every criticism from people who really hurt my little heart. Even though every day I have to keep smiling to show my beauty, they think I'm fine.

In the midst of a tiring day, I still feel proud of myself because I am willing to survive every day. Even though it feels hard, at least I can get through it. Until that afternoon, the wind which was usually strong was now blowing slowly and the sun was hiding behind folds of clouds.

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Everything looks sad. Under that sad sky I tried to bloom again, opening my new buds with difficulty. People looked at me with strange looks, but this time I just kept quiet and convinced myself that I could do it. I was not planted but I bloomed.

And for the first time, my flowers bloomed beautifully without any flaws. Its color is bright, its leaves are wide open, and its body is strong. There I saw people who used to judge me, they didn't believe in my abilities. They started approaching me one by one. It's strange, in the past I wanted to have lots of friends and be surrounded by lots of people, but now everything has become awkward because I always start everything alone without anyone accompanying me.

However, I am still grateful to God who is always there to help me when I am alone. Where God granted one of my wishes to be accompanied and trusted by many people, that I too could bloom beautifully like them.

Now I understand, blooming is not about being seen by whom, but about daring to stay alive. I'm just a small flower on the side of the road, but I've learned that as long as the roots still believe in the soil, no wind can really uproot me.[]

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