The Art of Loving

Photo Credit: youqueen

I love flowers.

Roses, Marigolds, Jasmine, Sunflowers.... I love their color, their fragrance. I love their beauty. If you ask me how long I can spend my time in the garden, you would be surprised to know I can be there day and night. When the dew touches their petals, I love watching them as they turn red with shyness. I love seeing them falling in love with the bees. I love listening them humming along with the sound of those noisy insects at night. I love their mad dancing which they generally do in the lights of fireflies. Whenever I see them growing old and withering, I feel sad and pray for their long life. I want them to grow beautiful.

My dad loves flowers.

Roses, Marigolds, Jasmine, Sunflowers.... He scratches all day in the garden. He wakes them up every morning from their deep sleep early in the morning with some healthy breakfast for them. He protects them from weeds. When they grow messy, he trims them and gives them a wonderful look. He knows their strength. When he sees them weak, he tends them with some extra care. For some he arranges crutch. He knows who has grown hungry after their mad dance and who is growing old. He tries as much as he can to protect their beauty and zeal with so much of love and effort.  

Sometimes, I think what if my father would not be there to take care of all that mess of our garden? Yes, it's not enough just to love flowers. One must prepare himself and truly work to grow them. 

Then, I think what if I replace the word 'flower' with 'child'. Will there be some difference? Don't you feeling loving is an art?