Even Should The Flowers Be Thrown At Our Feet...

I witnessed romance in its purest form this morning when IZ decided he was going down die hard for Valentine's Day. He found a picture he'd coloured and wrote some I Love S's along the border. He folded it up and put it in an envelope addressing it to:/from:. Then he set out to the garden with a kitchen knife and cut out a few flowers requesting that I tie a ribbon around the bouquet. He put it in his school bag and set off with total confidence, having no concept of rejection yet at 6.
Sadly, romance in paradise was sabotaged.
No sooner had he offered his heart to the pretty little girl, the flowers were snatched from her grasp by a savage in school clothes, shredded and thrown at her feet.
Oh spite! Oh cruelty! How early you bare your ugly head!

We have a serious rodent problem in Barbados-t'is true.

While the four legged vermin scurry about contaminating stored food, the two legged parasites consume and pollute happiness and amity and love. What pleasure we get from our pudding and souse! How we thrive on each others misfortune!

You get a promotion- I get you fired. I build a house- you steal material. You find a love- I spread your secrets. I get flowers- you shred them apart.

We are so hollow- so lonely- on this little rock in the middle of the sea. We have only us and we drive us away with our resentment and fear and envy. We are weary of friendship; we are terrified of love; we wear scowls or fraudulent smiles to cover our pain and disgrace.

Tonight as Valentine's Day comes to a close, I take a page out of IZ's book. There comes a point when the leap of faith becomes critical to our humanity.

Even should the flowers be thrown at our feet let us have courage to trust. To say...I am so happy that we are friends and to make the words manifest by our actions.