Flowers for a Friend

The flowers were the easy part.

Ten thousand seedlings?

No problem.

A thousand-square-foot cutting garden?

Surprisingly manageable.

Renovating a forty-year-old mobile home?

Well...

Six months later, I'm still living in a tent in my living room.

Inside my little sanctuary is a cot, my suitcase, my laptop — the only things I really need.

Outside my tent is a construction zone.

In the house is a strange mixture of demolition and reconstruction, everything held together by a thick layer of drywall dust.

In the yard are old sofas and dressers that no one wanted, even after I put a free sign on everything the house came with.

There are trailers of tools and materials, an overflowing dumpster, stacks of siding, new doors waiting to be installed, and old windows scattered around the yard.

At least I was no longer stuck.

Somewhere along the way, with the help of people who showed up and started moving things forward, I stopped waiting for the house to be finished before I started living in it.

The house could take its time.

So could I.

People have shown up.

Some with tools.

Some with ideas.

Some with encouragement.

A neighbor became a friend somewhere between demolition and laughter.

My sister helped me paint the town instead of the walls.

Others offered advice, answered questions, hauled furniture, or shared meals.

Then June arrived.

The garden was in full bloom.

I gathered armfuls of foxgloves, forget-me-nots, larkspur, and statice — blooms from the first FleurEverMore garden.

I made bouquets to share.

They felt like the perfect way to say thank you.