Bellis Bloom

Chapter 1: New live, New house

The next morning, as the sun’s warm rays streamed through my bedroom window, I couldn’t help but feel a bubbling excitement deep within me. I was beyond thrilled to dive into my garden project and unleash my creativity onto the blank canvas that lay before me. It was as if the universe had conspired to gift me this opportunity to transform the space into a vibrant masterpiece. With each step I took towards my garden, I could feel the energy coursing through my veins, fueling my anticipation and igniting a fire of passion within me. The possibilities seemed endless, and I couldn’t wait to bring my vision to life.

As I embarked on my planting journey, I approached each vegetable and fruit with care and consideration. It was like playing a game of a puzzle, finding the perfect spot for each plant to call home. The tomatoes, with their luscious red hues, found their place towards the back, basking in the warmth of the sun. And oh, the leafy greens. They took their position at the front, ready to offer a burst of freshness to any salad that came their way. As for the strawberries, those delicate white flowers, I nestled them in a cozy corner, allowing their sweet aroma to dance through the air and enchant the entire garden.

As my hands embraced the cool soil, I felt an indescribable connection with nature. It was as if I had become a part of something greater, a participant in the beautiful cycle of life. With each seed carefully placed into the ground, my imagination ran wild with visions of the future. I could almost taste the bountiful harvest that awaited me, filling my heart with excitement and anticipation. It’s truly magical to witness the wonders of nature unfold right before our eyes, isn’t it?

After planting all those precious plants, watering them diligently became a daily ritual for me too. Every morning, I would eagerly make my way to the garden, armed with my trusty watering can. As the water gently cascaded onto the soil, it was like a symphony playing in my ears. I could almost hear the plants whispering their gratitude, thanking me for the nourishment that would help them flourish and grow. It’s such a rewarding feeling to know that we’re providing our plants with the care they need, isn’t it?

Cooking has never been my strong suit either, but with my newfound independence, I was determined to change that. I decided to start with a fruit salad, thinking it would be a simple and refreshing dish. Little did I know, it would test my culinary skills in unexpected ways. Slicing the fruits evenly proved to be quite a challenge for me. I struggled to maintain a steady hand and ended up with uneven slices. Mixing everything together was another hurdle. I wanted to strike the perfect balance of flavors, but it took some trial and error to get it just right. It’s amazing how such a seemingly simple dish can bring about unexpected challenges, right? But hey, that’s all part of the learning process! With each attempt, I’m getting better and more confident in the kitchen. So, don’t worry if you faced some hurdles too. Embrace them as opportunities for growth and keep experimenting. We’ll become culinary masters in no time!

I didn’t let these obstacles discourage me. Instead, I embraced the process, learning from my mistakes, and finding joy in every small victory. After several attempts, I finally created a fruit salad that looked as beautiful as it tasted. The vibrant colors of the fruits danced together, creating a visual feast for the eyes. Each slice was a testament to my perseverance and growing culinary skills.

As I took my first bite, the flavors burst in my mouth, and I couldn’t help but smile. The sweetness of the strawberries, the tanginess of the pineapple, and the juiciness of the grapes all came together harmoniously. It was a true celebration of my accomplishment, and I savored every single bite.

I realized that cooking is not just about the end result but also about the journey. It’s about embracing challenges, learning from mistakes, and finding joy in the process. I may not be a master chef yet, but I’m proud of how far I’ve come. And I know that with each culinary adventure, I’ll continue to grow and create even more delicious dishes.

So, my friend, don’t be afraid to dive into the kitchen and embrace the joy of cooking. Celebrate your victories, no matter how small they may seem, and keep exploring the world of flavors.

But amidst the enjoyment of the flavors, a pang of loneliness tugged at my heartstrings. Surrounded by the empty walls of my new house, I yearned for the familiar embrace of my grandparents. They had always been a pillar of love and wisdom in my life, offering their unwavering support and guidance. However, with them being gone, their physical presence was now a cherished memory.

At that moment, I couldn’t help but reflect on the special moments we shared. From the stories they would tell, filled with wisdom and laughter, to the simple joys of sharing a meal together, their love and warmth always made everything feel extraordinary. Their absence in my new home left an undeniable void.

But as I sat there, contemplating the empty walls, I realized that the love and connection I shared with my grandparents transcended physical distance. Despite the physical distance between us, their love and support remained constant. I could watch videos on my phone and hear their comforting voices, sharing in my joys and offering words of solace during challenging times. It was in those moments that I felt their presence, even if they weren’t physically there.

The memories of the stories my grandparents would tell me still bring a warm smile to my face. Their tales were like magical journeys, transporting me to different worlds filled with adventure, wisdom, and laughter. We would gather around the cozy fireplace, their voices filled with excitement and animated gestures adding an extra layer of charm to their storytelling.

The laughter we shared echoed through the walls of our home, creating an atmosphere of joy and togetherness. We all doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down our faces, as the infectious laughter started with a simple joke or a funny anecdote. Those moments were pure magic, bonding us even closer as a family.

Cooking together was another cherished tradition. The aroma of delicious meals wafting through the house, the sound of sizzling pans, and the clinking of utensils created a symphony of culinary delight. We would gather in the kitchen, each with our assigned tasks, working in perfect harmony. From kneading dough for homemade bread to chopping fresh vegetables for hearty stews, every step was a labor of love. And when we finally sat down to enjoy the fruits of our labor, the flavors seemed to be infused with the love and laughter we shared during the cooking process.

Without my grandparents, the house felt empty and cold, lacking the warmth and vibrancy they brought. The once-familiar spaces seemed to lose their luster, as if waiting for their return. But it’s important to remember that even though they may not physically be present, their love and support continue to surround us. We can honor their memory by keeping their stories alive, sharing laughter with loved ones, and recreating the delicious meals we once cooked together.

However, what was really hurting me at this moment were my parents, the people I loved and expected to be my pillars of support, seem to distance themselves from me. It was even more painful when it happened not because of something I’ve done, but simply because of differences in beliefs and values. It’s like a deep ache in my heart, a sense of longing for that connection and understanding.

I felt a growing distance between my parents and me from the first time I told them I love gardening and I want my future to be about gardening. But you know what helped me find solace and connection during that time? My grandparents’ garden. The very thing they hated about me was the only thing that made me feel happy and safe. I yearned for my parents’ acceptance my whole life, for them to see beyond our differences and embrace me for who I am. It was a sadness that weighed heavy on my soul, knowing that the bond between a parent and child should be unbreakable, yet ours seemed fragile and strained. And this, this exact moment, was the moment I finally let go of my past and decided to concentrate on the future. I didn’t care about my parents anymore. They were not here and they will never be.

So, as I finished the last bite of the fruit salad, I still felt a bit lonely, but I also felt happy and excited about what the future held for me.