If there is no sun shining in the sky, the sunflower finds itself instead facing it's neighbor, being confused by the bright yellow glow reflecting itself. The sunflower is able to find comfort in its own presence and uses that to help itself flourish. When a golden retriever gets lonely, it turns to its people, trying to entice them with smiles and tennis balls for attention. The golden can also toss their own ball or tug on their own toys, keeping themselves occupied and content when no one else is home. Whether it be another sunflower, or an adoptive parent, these objects can be the support system for their growth.
However, both the sunflower and the golden retriever are some of the first to go when the end of their time grows near. The sunflower fades faster than the rest of the bouquet, the thin yellow petals begin to brown, the seeds begin to crumble, and the stem starts to wilt while the others stand as strong and vivid as ever. The golden retriever's fur grows white in the face far before the other dogs, the golden barely surviving to the age of 11 and suffers with arthritis while the miniature poodle survives past 15 suffering only with bad breath.
Why is it that the most beautiful things seem to fade the fastest?
It could be the weight of the world that makes the sunflower droop so soon, having the pressure of being the most different, the biggest and brightest of them all. They hold the pressure of having to support each other when their source of nutrients grows thin. While the Golden Retriever carries the weight of its large body as well as the job to be the one to make the company smile. They fetch and they trip and they'll run into things, all to make sure their person laughs or giggles in light of their effort. It takes a lot of energy to make the world happy.
The sunflower and the Golden Retriever have always been my favorites, they've never failed to make me smile. The other flowers in a bouquet don't seem to compare to the radiant sunflower; the roses too ordinary, the peonies too generic, the foliage just used to fill the empty space. Maybe it's the multi-use of the seeds: a tasty snack on the sidelines of a baseball game you don't want to be at or to make emergency flour in the middle of an unforeseen apocalypse. Maybe it's the fact that when I was really little my mom would sing "You are my sunshine" to me to help me fall asleep. When I had just learned to talk I tried to repeat the words back which sounded more like "woo are my sunwowa", and we decided to change those words to "You are my sunflower". It's been our inside joke ever since, the memory sweeter than the scent of any flower.
I loved the sunflower enough to have it permanently painted behind my ear. It's pattern finds itself scattered throughout my room as well, on canvases, pillows, and sweatshirts. Something about it's glow is as comforting to me as it is to other sunflowers in the rain. It does indeed reflect the sun without the intense burning of light, a more mellow source of energy: not overwhelming, and seems to warm you from the inside out. Fields of the yellow flowers fill my dreams as I go to sleep, before they're invaded with fire. The flower, taller than me, begins to wilt. As beautiful and strong as they are, winter always comes and the sunflower hangs its head in defeat. Soon to be buried under the weight of the snow, forgotten. The next spring new seeds will be planted for another flower to take its place. No one mourns the sunflower, yet the sunflower mourns, and another takes its place.
The golden retriever, much like the sunflower, is a bright presence to anyone they come near. However, while considered to be one of the easiest breeds to train, is not incredibly intelligent. "There's not a thought behind those eyes" my dad whispers lovingly to his new favorite child as she smiles back, as happy as ever, not comprehending his words. Not a thought behind those eyes, yet the largest smile on her face, and the most content in her mind. Perhaps it's the intelligence that one has that determines their happiness, and thus, their success. Earnest Hemmingway once said "Happiness for intelligent people is the rarest thing I know," a grim observation for those of us to consider ourselves scholars when happiness seems so far out of reach.
As strong and brash as the golden is, she still fears most things, not because they threaten safety as much as startle the breed, they can't understand how things work and it takes them by surprise. After the shock of figuring out what bubbles are or how a hose works, the creature continues its contented life style, and enjoys the new and scary object in their vicinity. It's reassuring to know that although the life of a Golden may be shorter than the rest, it will be full of nothing but happiness; every car ride, every walk, every time they chase a tennis ball will fill their heart and their life with light. Each moment spent with you becomes the new best moment of their lives. Simple creatures, but pure and wholesome.
Eventually, their faces grow white and their bones grow feeble and weak. When the dark day comes for the golden to be taken to the vet to be put down its owner mourns. Its owner mourns for the loss of their friend and they never forget. However, the golden is replaced with another, a younger version, meant to last another some 11 years before the process is repeated. The owner mourns, the golden mourns, and another takes its place. They know us for their whole lives, but they only take up a portion of ours. They are loved, they are lost, but never forgotten.
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Suadade: A Short Story Collection
Cerita PendekA collection of fictional short stories and nonfiction essays that depict beauty in the sadness.
