If you're a gardener, you know the fight against weeds never ends. They show up everywhere you don't want them. They're impossible to eradicate. They choke the life out of plants you're working to protect. To put it bluntly, they are the enemy.
But, every now and then, I see them in a different light. They are remarkable organisms, masters of innovation and proliferation, the ultimate survival experts. For all the care and attention that goes into maintaining "good" plants (which in some instances, are simply weeds we like), weeds grow and thrive entirely on their own, sometimes in the face of repeated assaults on their existence. They take their circumstances, such as they are, and make do.
The other day, as I walked out to my car, licking the wounds inflicted upon me by my 9 to 5, I saw this guy next to my truck. Maybe it was the fading light, maybe it was my frame of mind, but I found him incredibly beautiful. As I knelt down to look at him, I heard no complaints, no lament for the lot he'd been given. He was just growing where he'd been dropped, seemingly enjoying what little sunshine he could in the time he had.
I would like to be like him, to find room to grow in whatever crevice I am wedged in. To bask in the sunshine and dare the world to rip me out, knowing full well it might take me up on my challenge. I am increasingly surrounded by asphalt, but I am humbled that a weed can still show me what it takes to make it through this. A little space, a little creativity and precious little time. If I use what little I may feel I have, maybe I, too, can make someone stop in their tracks, take a closer look and have them think I'm beautiful.
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