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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2117332-Wild-Flowers
Rated: E · Short Story · Writing · #2117332
A lesson learned, a lesson given.
Note: This is a work of fiction. not based on actual events.
They say April showers brings May flowers, but here in California, we can't promise even to have April showers, but we do seem to grow Flowers in May after all.
          It was in the Summer of 1976, I took a trip with my family in California, specifically, we traveled from L. A, down interstate five, until we reached our final destination in San Diego. The road trip was boring, hot and too long; but being a boy of twelve, I was easily bored.
         My father, bless his heart, tried to make sure that we had enough to do during the trip so that we could enjoy ourselves. I should clarify that I also have a younger bother, I mean Brother named George Junior, my other brother Richard and my sister Erica. Erica, she slept most of the way but my two brothers and I were beginning to become a pain to our parents.
It first started with George Junior complaining that it was too hot, I was complaining I was hungry, and Richard just complained of both hot, hungry and bored.
         My father pulled the car over to a rest stop and climbed out. He looked at us Boys and then pointed at us with his index finger and wiggled it in a way to tell us, we needed to get out of the Car.
         "George be kind." My mother said.
         Dad just gave the look to my mother that he had no intention of hurting us, but we were going to be warned.
         We stood next to dad as he looked out over at a park. "Come with me." dad said and began to walk away. Experience told us we should follow.
         Now, our father was not a mean person at all. Never raised his voice at us or his hand for that matter. He was kind and loving, but at the same time, we learned to respect him and to do as we were told.
         We walked with dad until we reached the park where there was some playground equipment. A few swings. a couple slides and a set of monkey bars.
         "Are we going to play on those?" I asked hopefully.
         "No, it's what is beyond the playground. Do you see the wild Flowers growing in that patch of land?" Dad asked.
         We looked over at the flowers and then Dad took us closer. I became confused as to why we were being led to the flowers.
         "You see these Flowers? They do not worry about when the rain will come to feed them the water they need to grow. They don't complain about being out in the hot Sun or cramped in this field. They greet every day with their leaves open and accept what nature gives them." Dad said.
         "But they are just wild flowers, they aren't living people." George Junior said.
         Dad smiled. "So what about the Bees. They are living creatures. They have a job to do and they do it without complaint. Look how they gather the pollen from the Flowers and when they land on another flower they deliver the pollen to that flower. Remember when I told you all about this when we had our talk about life?" Dad asked.
         I remember the talk all too well. He had a book with pictures and everything. I couldn't even eat Honey for the longest time after that talk.
         "Yes, I remember." George Junior said with a shiver. "How can I forget."
         "You can see, the Wild Flowers depend on the Bees. They depend on nature to take care of them, as much as you depend on us to take care of you." Dad said. "When you complain about something that is already provided, then it makes you seem ungrateful to those that loves you. So, be like the Wild Flowers. Grow and be thankful, alright?"
         We agreed and hugged our Dad, then we went back to the Car with an appreciation for life and for what we have. We learned something valuable that day thanks to our father and Wild Flowers.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2117332-Wild-Flowers