Flower Crowns

Flower Crowns (Coming Soon!)

                                                                                     I

Once in English class, I spoke with my professor (that was what he enjoyed being called, but he wasn't even a professor at all) about his intake on life. We sat for a good hour or so speaking about nothing but theoretical propositions. The conversation was quite possibly the most meaningless thing I've ever contributed too, but maybe it was because I was too foolish to listen.

                Looking back on it now, I realize the things he said, and one rang to me in particular every damn day.

                We sat in the room where the ceilings were vaulted higher than some students' expectations. The clock hands ticked with a steady and slow mocking. The immense chalkboard stretched from the length of the floor to the tip-top of the beige ceiling. Rather than greeting him by his desk, I sat in the front row, my face expressionless as always. I refused to be treated any less than a student, and I was there to learn from his experience. The distance between us may have been but a few yards, but from my perspective he was teaching from a safe distance.

"So professor," I spoke in a calm and steady voice, "What do you think it's all about?"

With the same tone, responded, "About what, Miss Briar?"

"Life." I replied simply but with some power.

"Well," He shifted, "I believe that people are going to do what they are meant to do. The power above simply gives them the opportunity. You can grow up to be anything, and take that as connotative as you will. We grant ourselves the freedom and respect we allow. There are people who take this to the lowest extent, but then there are people who reach this to the farthest infinite possibility. Life, life is about perspective, and how you choose to interpret and handle things. Similar to if, say, you and a lover just broke up. What you choose to do with that situation- whether it is filled with meaningless hate or forgiving love- is what defines you as an individual," He finished silently.

                I sat for a moment as I processed and took the information I had just received. I began to nod as I understood, "So, what you're saying is we are judged by the world by the worst we have done to others rather than the worst that has been done to us?" I inquired.

He seemed to take this interpretation in for a moment, "I suppose so... I don't believe I have ever quite thought about it like that," He said in question.

I began to gather my things and collect my essay. I walked over to the desk and did nothing but simply hand my paper into the basket. Before exiting through the marble column doors, I looked back, and was returned with a curious glance from the old and wise professor.

"Perspective can sometimes teach us more than words ever will, Professor Alexander" I said simply.

And I left without a second thought.

Since that day nearly a year ago, not one day has gone by I don't think about what he had said.  His words would ring in my ears on a lonely night at four in the morning, when I sat red-eyed with a pen in my hand. 'Whether it is filled with meaningless hate or forgiving love...'  I could either sit with hatred that meant nothing, or I could stand with everlasting forgiveness; the choice was in my hands.

**

I woke up one morning to find the sun tucked away behind a layer of grey clouds, and the tears of the lost spilling upon the ground. The image filled my lazy eyes as a stretched out the night and welcomed in the light of the morning. Stumbling, I found my way to the kitchen where I sat alone, looking out the window with a cup of steaming caffeine.