Evening Primrose

As daylight faded, I traipsed outdoors to collect the children’s toys, which littered the back yard. The evening ritual kept the neighbors happy and we liked a happy neighborhood. Usually the children helped, but ominous clouds looked too threatening so I charged myself with the task. It started sprinkling and I scurried to pack everything into the shed before the storm let loose. The sprinkles transitioned into a light shower. I picked up the remaining shoes and what nots and sprinted up the walkway relieved I had dodged the worst of the downpour and the lighting, which felt like it struck too close to home.

“Ma’am…. Ma’am?” Someone yelled. I looked around and saw the elderly man, who lived at the end of the street, flapping his arms.

“Ma’am, come here,” he yelled waving me toward him.

I thought something terrible happened and dropped the what nots.

I ran through the neighbor’s yard trying to avoid trampling the new grass although I knew the owners would give me a tongue thrashing later. As I drew nearer, he appeared fine. No distress signs like, blood, glazed eyes or chest heaving seemed noticelable. I watched with obvious impatience while he inspected the flowers along his back fence. I wanted to ask if everything was ok and waited for him to volunteer the information.

Instead, he asked, “Have you ever seen a primrose open up?”

I shook my head. No, I’ve never seen a primrose open and I’m pretty sure standing here getting drenched isn’t a good time to share garden stories.

“They’re a unique flower,” he said, dismissing my rude thoughts, as though he heard them “And I wanted you to see them. The flowers only open in the evening. Watch these ones over here, they haven’t opened yet,” he pointed to some closed buds.

My hair dripped, my clothes began sticking to me and his stare remained intent on the blossoms, oblivious of the rain and the water sliding off his baldhead, in a tiny stream. I felt ridiculous and skeptical. Watching flowers bloom seemed a little like watching corn grow, but I didn’t want to disappoint the old man. There we stood, with no apparent sense to come in out of the rain.

“See that?” he said pointing. “Watch now. It’s gonna open up.”

I leaned in a little closer. Like a slow motion slice of miracle, the little blossoms opened their petals, unfolded with grace and presented a beauty show. I never witnessed anything like it before. 

“Wow!” It didn’t happen often, but I hardly knew what to say.

I walked around his fence in awe as more flowers opened. I wanted to see them all bloom! I forgot about my wet, heavy clothes. And my sloshing sneakers.

We stayed and chatted in the rain a while longer and he taught me all about the Evening Primrose. I walked back home feeling grateful for having witnessed something so heavenly. Flowers that bloom in the dark... If a flower could do it, how much more then, me?