Memories of Tulips

Perusing instagram in a state of insomnia. So much to do, but it's 4:30am. Sleep escapes me and the sounds of a horny cat outside my window sounds like an angry mob. I happen upon the pictures of an ex-girlfriend or whatever she was. She didn't like the label or enough of me for that matter. I scroll down, passing the beautifully tattooed women, my friend's last meal and arrive at a picture that takes me back. A wrought iron fence, protecting a bunch of tulips. Always the first flowers to appear and bring back those childhood memories. The front yard of our brownstone, the ivy covered "lawn,",with a few red, yellow and white tulips poking through. The squeak of the metal as someone would enter, plucking the flowers for his beau. My parents, angry at the intrusion, the theft, the brash behavior of this youth, but the act then brought them back and the smiled and pulled each other closer. Flowers were on the table the following evening. Store bought for us to enjoy, while the tulips were saved for others, either to view or to steal. In the end it didn't really matter, in that their brief appearance, in one way or another, brought joy and hope, just like the early spring is meant to do..

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White Privilege

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