I just found myself smiling at the daffodils I’d placed in a glass vase on the mantle piece.
It is spring they reminded me. I realised I hadn’t noticed.
I’d rescued the daffodils the night before. They’d been balanced on the door handle of the flat down stairs.
The occupant of this flat wouldn’t see her flowers. She had left. She had left me with her keys. I had helped her flee – from the terrors of the earthquake… of being alone… with no family… no experience of earthquakes. Hurricanes and tsunamis, yes, but no earthquakes.
She is in a safer part of Christchurch where the quake aftershocks are not so violent, where the house is more solid, where she is with a close friend and people from her culture.
For people brought up in New Zealand, earthquakes are a part of our history and culture. Most have experienced an earth quake or are related to someone who has felt the earth shake and lived to tell the tale.
I sent a text to her to say I had the daffodils and they were in good hands. She now wonders about “a secret admirer.”
I think she will come back to enjoy the daffodils soon.
Out of the violence of the quake and widespread destruction of property are springing many expressions of care, a fresh sense of community, and new ways of connecting.
New rays of hope emanate from the daffodils, rekindling desire, energies, and thoughts about what might be possible.
Spring: new beginnings, new ways of thinking.
I hope some new ways of building real and sustainable community might arise out of this quake.
I’d be interested in your comments (very easy – no membership or anything complicated to do) and contributions on this or any other matter.