My favorite hour to swim is between 7:30 and 8:30am; it’s just a great time of day to be outside in Florida. The birds are chirping, the squirrels are scampering around the palm trees, and the sun is bathing the flowers and grasses in a promising, golden glow.
Rhythmically splashing back and forth, I take visual inventory of the familiar patterns of light and shade. Lately, about half way through my laps, as the sun sifts through the massive fronds of our silver Bismark, this solitary, tall Heliconia (pictured above) has been perfectly positioned to fully reflect the glorious, morning rays.
I look forward to seeing this sight every day and yet I know it won’t be long before this flower outgrows its warm and special spot in the garden.. almost like my college bound daughter has outgrown her warm and special spot here at home.
In a few short weeks we will load up the car and drive 885 miles to drop her off at the doorstep of a whole new life. And while we celebrate growth and the healthy maturing it represents, there’s some small part of me that secretly aches for things to stay the same.
No, it won’t be easy watching our youngest child ‘grow away’, but just like that beautiful Heliconia, both will always have deep roots right here…
in our little corner of paradise.