It’s been nearly two months since I shut myself away from the world. And in that time, the weather has gone from torrential rain to sunny days, and the seasons have changed. The deadlines for important parties creep ever closer, with every cross on my calendar reminding me that time is running out. But just like how you would expect a magnolia to bloom between the transition from winter to spring, I will fulfil what is expected of me, regardless of the cost.
Yet, I’ve begun to cut corners to preserve my energy and aid in my survival—it’s strange how the weather in Sydney continues to change. The gloom of wintry rains makes a temporary exit to remind you what hope looks like, all before making its debut in the springtime. It’s hard to go outside when there’s no incentive—but when has that ever stopped you before? To be met with a sunny sky and a comforting warmth inviting you outdoors can sometimes be too much to ask.
When it’s not too hot to discourage the hermits in their temperate homes, I suppose that’s when I’ll go outside. And I did. To sit under blooming magnolia trees and wait for the petals to fall, all the while cars drive around busy people and pass me by. That day, I felt… okay. I distinctly remember finding joy in watching the petals fall. Of course, I’ve had a minor obsession with making ice cream with the fallen blooms, so who could blame me?
As the wind carried joy towards me in small wisps, I’ve been reminded that happiness exists. It comes and goes as it pleases, but can sometimes be invisible to the eyes of those who have forgotten its face. In these bleak couple of months imbued with vanity and meaninglessness, I’ve had to try so hard to search for her and remember that she exists. And it has been difficult, but perhaps rewarding. I wish I could list more nuggets of joy than the fingers on my own two hands, but I’ll settle for what I have now.
I’m thankful to God for the beauty I can see with my own two eyes—the peach blossoms I view walking down my driveway during this time of year, the full moon greeting me as I leave home, and the sight of big magnolia trees as I drive down familiar and unfamiliar roads. I find excitement in seeing my pilates instructor every couple of weeks, in having Molly Tea, and hitting a new PB. I find joy in all these things without reason, and for that I am glad. And I desperately pray it is enough to overshadow the misery of overwork and being taken for granted.
As the magnolias continue to bloom, I hope to grow and find reasons to continue living. Maybe it’s time to go outside again. Even if it means going through all the unread messages from May and settling my debts. I’ll pick up more petals on the way out.
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