I Want You to Thrive
By: Tim Heare
Tags: Flash Fiction, Garden, Fable, Fiction, Life

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

Gardener’s favorite plant was Daffodil. She planted him many years ago in the garden’s best soil, not too much sand or clay, and no rocks to cramp his roots. Despite harsh winters, he always bloomed every spring. Each morning when she came to water him, they would strike up a conversation.

“I think this will be a great day, Daffodil. Don’t you?” Gardener would say.

Daffodil always responded with a suggestion on what to do that day. “Oh yes. It looks great. I see some weeds by the tomatoes. Perhaps that is the best place to start.” To which Gardner would politely nod and smile before continuing her work.

One day Gardener didn’t come. She missed a day here and there when things were busy. But after four days, he became very thirsty. He stretched his roots deeper in the ground for any moisture to keep him from wasting away.

After five days, Gardener came to see him. “I’m sorry, dear. I had to leave town and couldn’t get anyone to tend my garden. I hope you’re feeling OK.”

“As a matter of fact, I am not OK. I’m rather wilted,” Daffodil said.

Gardener tipped her watering can and let the water gush over him. “Oh, you look just as beautiful as ever.”

Daffodil guzzled the water as it reached his roots. He’d never drank so much. Too quickly, Gardener began tipping her watering can back up.

“Please, will you give me a little more water?” he said. “I was so thirsty while you were away.”

“Now Daffodil, I already gave you more than enough. It’s time to water the other plants. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Gardener stood up and began her routine in the rest of the garden.

The next day, Gardener came back to begin her work. “Good morning, my love. How did you sleep last night?”

“You know, it got fairly hot yesterday, and I woke up thirsty. I don’t suppose you can give me a little extra water?” Daffodil said.

She tipped her can and poured his usual amount. “I gave you extra yesterday. It’s best to only have what you need.”

Daffodil tilted his trumpet down. “But I’m so weak. Surely a little more will strengthen me.”

“Too much and you won’t be able to thrive. I’ll water you again tomorrow.” She said before leaving to tend her other plants.

Gardener came the next day as promised. “Hello Daffodil. It will be another wonderful day. Don’t you think?”

Daffodil turned his petals away and tried to ignore her.

“Oh come now, Daffodil. What’s wrong?” Gardener asked.

“I’m very thirsty. You’ve been starving me these last few days.” he continued in an even, measured tone with his trumpet turned slightly up. “I don’t think you understand what it’s like to be a flower. How much effort it takes to bloom like this.”

“Daffodil, too much water is not good for you.” Gardener poured her usual amount and stood to leave.

“Please,” he pleaded. “I’ve bloomed for you year after year and never asked for anything. I’m grown enough to know what I need. If you loved me, you would give me more.”

Gardener turned around, carefully choosing her next words. “I love you Daffodil, enough to let you make your own choices. But one day you will find that what you know isn’t all there is to know, and sometimes more isn’t better.”

Over the next several weeks, Gardener poured as much water as Daffodil asked. He rejoiced in the cool liquid and greedily sucked it from the soil into his roots.

Until one day he noticed that, after taking his fill, the soil was still damp. It squished between his roots, and he found it couldn’t hold him straight when the wind blew. However, he continued to ask Gardener for more water each day, relishing the way it filled him.

“Gardener,” Daffodil said one morning. “My roots are sore. Could you bring something to prop me up so I can rest a little?”

“Your roots are sore?” Gardener said. “Would you like more water?”

“I’m not thirsty today.” he said.

She slid a stake into the muddy soil and tied Daffodil to it for support, then left to perform her work in the garden.

That night, Daffodil couldn’t sleep. He found that even though the ground was wet, he couldn’t drink. By morning, he was desperate to see Gardener.

“Good morning dear,” Gardener said as she knelt next to Daffodil. “Are you feeling better?”

“No, I am not. I feel worse. I can’t seem to get a drink this morning.” Daffodil started crying.

“I was afraid of something like this and hoped you would know when to stop asking for more than you needed.” Gardner pulled on her work gloves and began gently shifting the soil away from Daffodil’s bulb and roots. “You’ve begun to rot. This can happen if your soil stays wet for too long.”

She moved closer and whispered in his petals. “I don’t know if I can save you, but I can try if you will let me.”

Daffodil cried. “Please Gardener! I don’t want to leave your beautiful garden.”

Gardener grabbed a small bucket and trowel. She gently dug him out of the ground and took him to the greenhouse. Her hands tenderly washed the mud from his roots before placing him in a pot with fresh soil.

Months later, Gardner brought him out of the greenhouse and took him to a new spot in the garden. “It’s time to plant you again, Daffodil. This new patch isn’t as nice, but I think it will give you what you need.” With that, she planted him in the rocky soil and walked away. Daffodil settled in for a long nap as the first snowflakes of winter tickled his leaves.

“Good morning, Daffodil. I’m so happy to see you. What should we do this year?” Gardener said.

Daffodil opened up and looked around the budding garden and smiled.