Me as a Flower

Someone once told me that if I were a flower, I'd be a sunflower.

At first, I thought it was like being an apple if I were a fruit, or a potato if I were a vegetable. You know, bottom-of-the-barrel anthropomorphic flowers, fruits, and veggies.

I blame this on Elizabeth Arden's gaudy fragrance, "Sunflowers," worn by countless middle school girls in the 1990's.

There were so many other flowers I'd have preferred to be!

I'd have been flattered to be considered a lilac, unabashedly purple and rust-busting.

I wanted to possess the wild, witchy soul of the mother of the Aztec corn...

...the audacity of the electric thistle, the wisdom of the fair thistledown...

...and the ethereal elegance of the sweet lily.

But sunflowers, they're so regally mellow, tinted deep maroon from staring at the sun all day long.

They smell like twilight or dusk.

I like to think of them closing their eyes, smiling slightly, and receiving the sun's loving rays in sheer satisfaction.

I want to be more like a sunflower.