anxiety, brownstone, children, differences, families, family, flowers, gay, homosexual, hot dogs, interracial, mayo, mental-health, New York City, nyc, purple flowers, race, single parent, yellow flowers
I am grateful to live in New York City for many different reasons, but chief among them is the opportunity to be out and about on foot witnessing all the sights and sounds this bustling metropolis has to offer. Sure there are plenty of places I still haven’t been to (Staten Island, Coney Island, to name a few), but even in my little neck of the woods there is plenty to see. The trick though, is to actually look. Today is a beautiful day, and I found myself walking some errands (I wasn’t running, so that cliche didn’t really work) when I noticed some lovely flowers planted outside a brownstone. I noticed them, “Pretty,” I said in my head. They were thriving, and there were yellow ones and purple ones, and I noticed them, and I kept walking on my way. Then it actually registered. What I had noticed, were not yellow flowers and purple flowers planted together in the same flower bed, they were yellow and purple flowers! I know, sounds confusing, so I turned and walked back, not caring that I was on my way to an appointment, because I had to make sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. Well, no tricks this time!
I was struck that each flower had what seemed to be three yellow petals and two purple ones on the same stem! I don’t know what this flower is, so if you do, please let me know. All I know is that I began to think about how as a culture we often get uncomfortable when we see objects (whether people, foods, or things) that we don’t expect to see together, in the same place. This could be as simple as mayo on a hot dog (blech!), or as complex as an interracial couple, for example. I am hopeful that our current societal culture is evidence that different makeups of families are now more the norm than anything. Kids with two moms or two dads, kids that have only one parent, adopted children from other countries, these are all things that at least my children, don’t question. I am grateful for that, but I also hope that even though they don’t question, that they at minimum take notice and see how beautiful something can be, even if we don’t originally think it belongs. But never mayo on a hot dog, never.
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