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Cheryl Hughes: Bloom

The yellow irises are blooming in my backyard.  They don’t know there is a virus sweeping the nation.  They just know it’s spring.  They’ve been waiting all year for this.  In the cold and dark and rain and ice, they shivered and waited for this time—their time to bloom.

The yellow irises come from hearty stock.  The bulbs were my stepmom’s and her mom’s before that and her mom’s before that, and God only knows how many other mom’s moms before that.  Very little can deter them from blooming when it’s time. 

The white blooms on the azaleas in the front yard aren’t so hearty.  The azaleas are Johnny-come-lately shrubs.  I planted them myself a mere 20 years ago.  There was a late freeze this spring that killed most of the buds before they could open. 

There were miniature peaches on our peach tree when a frost warning was issued.  We covered the small tree with old sheets.  A few days later, a freeze warning was issued.  We upgraded our covering from sheets to Garey’s hunting tent.  We secured the tent to the ground with stakes and rope.  It wasn’t enough.  A blustery wind wrapped its fingers around the edges of the tent, and it took flight like a camouflaged kite, flinging off the ropes that tethered it to the ground and sailing free until the barbed wire fence grabbed it and wouldn’t let go.  The peaches survived.  I don’t know how.

I remember the year a late freeze killed the lilac blooms in my yard.  The little purple flowers had waited all year to show off their best, only to be stopped by falling temperatures.  They would have to wait another full year for that to happen.  It was heartbreaking. 

Last week, as I drove through Morgantown, I saw banners on the lampposts along the sidewalk, dedicated to this year’s high school seniors.  I noticed similar signs in front yards announcing a graduating senior lived there.  I feel so bad for them, these children who have waited twelve years to cross the graduating stage in their cap and gown regalia.  Twelve years to hug their family and friends and say, “Look!  We did it!”  Twelve years to bloom. 

Yes, they will still receive a diploma.  Their families will still be proud of them.  They will go on to jobs and college.  They will still become productive members of society.  But there will be an asterisk next to their graduation date, declaring: ceremony cancelled due to Covid-19.

I asked my friend, Ovie House, about the banners on lamp posts and the signs in yards.  She told me the school faculty had made that happen.  She also told me about a Facebook page called 2020 BCHS Seniors.  It is a page that allows members of the community to adopt a senior.  Once on the site, you have to request to join the page, but when you join, you can select a senior to adopt.  You can adopt more than one senior, and seniors can be adopted by multiple people.  It is a way to encourage and help this year’s graduating class with cards and small gifts, and any creative way you can think of to let this class know they are not forgotten.

It’s their time to bloom.  It’s our time to help them.

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