I remember back in elementary school (yes, I can remember that far back) one of the things we did during our science class was to plant a seed. We were all given a paper cup, some potting soil, and a seed. I don’t remember what kind of seed.
Anyway, during class we wrote our name on the cup, filled it with stones and soil, planted the seed, and watered it. The cups were then placed on a windowsill in the classroom. You must remember that this was during the 60’s and I went to a parochial school that was located on the two floors above the church. We had lots of windowsills.
Anyway, we eagerly watched our cups for the first sign that the seed sprouted and would bloom. Excitement filled the room when the first tiny shoot poked its head above the soil.
Once the blooming started we would all rush over to the windowsill first thing on entering the classroom. When the flower was in full bloom we were allowed to take it home as a gift to our mothers.
It was exciting planting, caring for, and watching our seeds sprout and grow. Fast forward 50 years. Now another seed has been planted. It has taken root. I am not thrilled about it. I know it is growing. I can feel it. The stuffed nose, the sore throat, the tiredness, the aching body.
Yes, a cold has been planted and it is flourishing. Bring on the tissues, ibuprofen, and chicken noodle soup!