While We Were Gone, the Zinnias Bloomed

Our neighbor up the street plants zinnias every spring. The kids and I are excited to watch every stage of the process– first the prepared soil, then the progression of tiny shoots, leaves, and blooms in every color. Zinnias are my favorite flower, and I love that they come in late summer, just when things get hazy with heat.

Last Sunday, we flew to San Diego to visit my sister and brother-in-law, and meet their 8-month-old baby– my nephew and godson. We were excited/nervous about the experience, and in the weeks before we left I couldn’t think of anything but the trip. It felt like there was no after. Everything in me was focused on getting there, Covid protocols and all, with two young children who’d never flown before.

We got home late last night, and today I took a walk up the street toward the neighbor’s house. As I walked, I thought about our trip and how surprisingly well it had gone. My kids turned out to be great travelers, even the four-year-old. She was patient when she had to be patient, and moved quickly through crowds, diligently holding my hand, when that was required. She navigated escalators. She carried her own little backpack. She loved the takeoff and landing of the plane.

When we arrived in San Diego, we got our rental car and drove to our Airbnb, where we were allowed to check in early. It turned out to be just enough space for the four of us, and the location was drop-dead beautiful, in the heart of Bird Rock. I was able to walk to the beach in mere minutes every morning, and the neighborhood was quiet and lovely. As soon as we could, we drove to see my sister and nephew. There was hugging and tears and transcendent joy over the baby’s smiles and laughter. We spent the week enjoying time together.

The trip wasn’t without its difficult moments, of course– that would be an impossible dream. But as soon as we landed, late last night, I felt like we’d accomplished something special. A world of travel possibilities is open to us now, and we have a set of beautiful memories of our West coast family that we wouldn’t have had if I’d given in to the nerves and Covid-related fears that (still) plague me.

On my walk today, I paused outside the neighbor’s house, and my heart blossomed when I saw the flowers. The zinnias had bloomed while we were gone.

The perfect metaphor, I think, for my family’s journey.