Just Write Tuesday #7

Daphne awoke to the warm sun rays. She stretched, as well as a flower could stretch, and sighed. “What a wonderful morning! Wouldn’t you agree, Tulu?”
Tulu, a cherry red tulip, said, “Indeed, it is a fine spring morning. The sun’s rays feel comforting today. Last night was kind of cold and I can still feel the ache in my stem.”
Daphne said, “Do you ever wish you were a Late Bloomer? I mean we never really get to enjoy the sun much. The spring nights are often chilly and brisk. Sometimes, I’m not happy being a daffodil.”
“Daphne, you are a silly posey,” said Tulu, still not quite awake and not entirely listening. “Next you will be telling me you want arms instead of leaves. Be happy being you.”
“I can dream if I want to, Tulu. Late Bloomers have it better. Everyone knows that.”
“Nonsense, I don’t’ believe it,” said the tulip.
Daphne and Tulu’s argument continued throughout the day, but no matter what Tulu said to convince her she was wrong, she would not believe a word. “Late Bloomers have it better. It’s not cold, they get more sun and some grow to be huge, bigger than humans.”
Daphne wished that night that she could be a Late Bloomer. She knew if she were, everything would be perfect and she’d never be cold again.
“Excuse me up there!” said a tri-colored pansy, “Hey, sunflower, point your head to the right!”
Daphne heard the noise and looked around, “What?” she said.
“Down here,” said the voice, “You’re blocking our sun again and you promised you’d stop. We’d appreciate it if you turned your big old head to the right.”
“Okay,” she said, turning her huge yellow mane. She was enormous, maybe six foot. How did this happen?
Her wish! It had come true, she was a sunflower, a Late Bloomer. She stood proud and tall and enjoyed the August sun.
But soon the sun didn’t feel so warm. It felt hot! Extremely hot and her enormous head began to droop.
A grasshopper landed on her leaf, “Do you still like being a Late Bloomer?” she asked.
“Tulu?” said Daphne, “Why . . . How?”
“Hey, if you’re a sunflower, I can be a grasshopper. Right?”
“I guess so,” said Daphne.
“So, do you like it?” the bug asked again.
“Yes! I love it. It was a little hot today, though.”
“That’s August for you,” said Tulu, as she began to chomp on Daphne’s leaves.
“Hey! Quit that,” said Daphne, trying to shake Tulu off.
“A girl’s got to eat, dear.”
By evening, Tulu had eaten a huge whole in Daphne’s big, beautiful leaf. Daphne was glad that Tulu had her fill and jumped off. However, she soon was very lonely. She could hear the other flowers murmurs, but no one tried to talk to her. She was just too high up.
Daphne was terribly sad. “I never should have made that wish. I liked being me. I liked being me! I liked being me . . .”
“What are you shouting about?” asked Tulu. “It’s not even dawn yet!”
Daphne looked around. She’d never been so glad to see a tulip in all her life. She was her bright yellow daffodil self again! It was just a dream!
“You were right about everything, Tulu,” she said. “I don’t want to be a Late Bloomer. I want to be me!”
“That’s splendid, dear. Tell me in the daylight,” said the tulip, nodding back to sleep. “Such a silly posey,” she mumbled.