The only thing I didn’t like about the rain on the first day of the rest of my life (as clichéd as that sounds) was the way it beat down on the sunflowers. It made them look sad—they were, after all, only young flowers, and were getting kind of bent in the torrential rain. I watched them for a while that morning, lying on my back with my hand on my stomach.Then I got up and went to school. I usually enjoyed being inside a school building on a rainy morning, because it felt more secure than on sunny days. Rainy school mornings were what education was supposed to be, austere and wonderful, but only sometimes. I felt badly about my sunflowers, though, so it was hard to concentrate on how nice things were.
When I got home, I stood outside in the rain and tied the drooping sunflower to a ruler. I got very wet, and I would have tied the rest of them up, but I had to go inside and make dinner. Soothing as the tap-tap-tap of the rain on the roof was, I couldn’t get those sunflowers out of my head, not the whole day long. I thought an awful lot about those sunflowers, but then my baby came.
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