A Flower's Stem

Isn’t it amazing how life can be so cruel and forgiving, so fragile and demanding, so mature and adolescent, making you put in your very soul, and then throw you out in the gutter with nothing, but your head on your shoulders, and whatever fraction of dignity you’ve managed to grasp in the process.

 Chapter 1

Just as summer changes to winter, winter to spring, and spring to fall, people change their whole identities when faced with the surcharges of life. We are born to face whatever the world has fractioned for us out of the whole magnificent mess that goes on without our own consent. We take our share and make do with it just enough to stay in existence and make an attempt to share some with other players in the game, and we grasp some from those who we think were fractioned with more to play with. Then, after a while, we start thinking that we are the ones least fortunate with whatever we ended-up with, and we look around the table to see everyone else cheating insanely, abusing their fractions, and laughing maniacally over our heads. We eventually surround ourselves with this gray cloud of jealousy, fear, and mistrust so much, that we forget about what we had and blindly try to grab for more; eventually, the world must take some away from us to keep the balance, leaving us, sometimes, with less than what we started with. That’s when we think back to that cloud, how it was really formed, and why others still have the fraction they started with, nothing less - nothing more. We then get an excruciating pain in our chests and hope to be able to start the game all over again, to get another chance…

* * *

Moving at an even 58 miles an hour, a dark blue Buick Regal was patiently making its way home through the somewhat busy highway 93 of the now dark and beautiful city of Boston, Massachusetts. At the steering wheel sat a beautiful young woman in her late thirties; she had gorgeous blond hair, and was wearing a red blouse and a pair of fancy cashmere pants. On the soft, leather seat next to her lay her beautiful velvet purse with all her personal belongings and a little bit of cash she won from a lottery ticket at a near gas station. The car''s dashboard was indicating a pleasant 68 degrees outside with almost no wind current, and the radio was gently filling her head with Dido''s "Thank you". She was sleepy and tired, and getting utterly impatient to get back to her warm and cozy house for comfort.  

The woman was driving home from work, which was at the Boston public high school a few blocks away. As it had happened to her a lot, she had to stay after hours to resolve matters with a bunch of teenagers who could never quite get their homework in on time, and required extra efforts to be once-again reminded of the importance of school, grades, and staying alert in class. But she took it all as part of her job and had willingly stayed after hours day in and day out to get the poor souls to display some signs of responsibility every once in a while. 

It had already been getting late in the evening, and the woman was getting rather impatient to get back and see her son and husband. She was now minutes from home, so she forced down the gas pedal and made the final turn into her street. The porch lights were on at every single house along the way; the sight was beautiful, and as she drove by she noticed everyone in their homes. Most of the neighbors were watching TV, some were dining, some reading, and others – doing other various little tasks which she herself had always wished she would have time for, but never did.