Blooming Zinnias

I love that orange zinnias symbolizes long-term health and wellness.  Particularly since I couldn't sleep last night.  One night I sleep soundly for nine hours and the next I am lost in thought about the drug addicts that inhabit one of our rentals.  How to kindly send them on their way.  I worry about an obese family member who is drowning in their sorrow, bobbing out at sea.  Nobody that should seems to see them waving their hand in panic.  Or maybe they see and can't care for personal reasons all their own.  I have a friend, an Italian friend, who has the perfect family.  It's not large but it's healthy.  And perfect.  There is love and balance between all generations, but mostly love.  I moved 3,000 miles away to escape the tyranny that was my mother and even still when she'd call I'd wait to see when I should hang up the phone.  Maybe when she said, "Who do you think you are?" I had told her I was getting a doctoral degree and naively looked to her for support and pride. These days I embrace orange zinnias even though they don't bloom much in my extended family.  They bloom in my yoga class, my Zoom meditation courses, my writing group, very close family, close friends.  In my ceramics studio and at the gym.  Along the path I walk at the edge of the shoreline on a summer day.  They bloom when I smile at my aging dog and feel the love my husband offers.