This Is Not Where Your Story Ends

A few weeks ago, I walked into the living room, still groggily wiping sleep from my eyes and mentally thinking through my to-dos for the day, and immediately started blinking back tears.

I planted the bulb in December, watered it through January, and kept waiting for it to bloom. An amaryllis grows in winter, when harvest has come and gone and we’re waiting for spring to arrive. When so much feels quiet and still, dead and bare with no signs of life to be seen, the amaryllis slowly begins to ris...