tigrkittn

Oubaitori (桜梅桃李) is an ancient Japanese idiom that comes from the kanji characters for the four trees that bloom in the spring: cherry, plum, peach, and apricot. Each flower blooms at its own time, and the idiom conveys the idea that people grow and bloom at their own pace. It serves as a reminder to focus on one's own growth and development, rather than comparing oneself to others.

SPRING:

"Mom, you are not taking me seriously." I could see her trying to hold in a smile, which made me even madder.

"I'm taking you very seriously, Maggie munchkin." Now she did smile. "But I guarantee you are not the last fourteen-year-old on the planet without a boyfriend."

"Well I'm the only one I know." I crossed my arms in front of me and made the sulkiest possible face. "Is it so much to ask to want my own mother to have a little sympathy for my humiliation? Everyone at school is probably laughing their asses off at what a loser I am."

"You can't be worried about what other people think about your life." She leaned in with her face comically squinched up and a finger raised for emphasis. "The only opinion that matters is your own."

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. "That's stupid."

SUMMER:

My maid of honor fluffed my veil and bit her lips to hold back tears. She had always been a mush, crying at the drop of a hat.

I passed her a tissue box. "Would you fucking stop that? If anyone should be crying about this it's me!" That was more true than Tasha knew, and for a totally different reason than she thought—but I wasn't going to explain, not even to my best friend.

"I can't help it. You look like a fucking fairy tale. Which makes sense since you're about to get hitched to Prince Charming till death do you part."

Of course she meant that in a good way, but the idea of spending the next fifty years with Brad made me ill. He might look like Prince Charming, in a very well-bred, chiseled, Ivy-League sort of way. But he didn't reveal his real self around my friends. He was polite and jovial and considerate in a studied way that actually kind of spooked me. Like he was two different people.

This is your dream, I reminded myself. It was all I'd ever wanted—someone to love me. Someone to belong with. To be part of a couple, to have a partner to share life's joys and challenges. If not Brad, then who? I was 24 years old—not a kid anymore. My friends were already married and having families. What if this was my last chance? What if Brad was the only one who ever asked? Marriage to him might be challenging, but better than being alone forever—a failure, a laughingstock.

AUTUMN:

I carefully fit the cardboard backing into the picture frame and flipped it over. Hanging it on the nail I'd pounded into the wall beside my front door—with my own hammer, my own box of nails, from the little gray toolbox I'd decorated with colorful stickers—felt like a declaration of freedom.

Displaying my divorce decree—the final page with signatures, of course—prominently in a fancy frame, instead of burying it in a file cabinet in a dark corner somewhere, felt like a slightly childish act of defiance, but I didn't care. If my friends thought it was inappropriate, maybe I needed some new friends. Tasha would approve. The kids would laugh—grown now and making their own choices, they didn't like their father much more than I did. Becka and Mark were both warm and free-spirited, with a level of emotional intelligence that hadn't come from either of their parents. I don't know where they got it from but I was grateful, because they had raised me as much as I had them, and I was so much better for it.

The townhouse was a new construction. Pristine. Untouched. It smelled of fresh paint and lemon oil. Within the bounds of its frame and floorplan, it was a clean slate, to do with as I wished—just like my life. I needed no one's permission. I was done putting everyone else's opinion ahead of my own.

It was my turn.

WINTER:

I awake to the smell of coffee and the raised voices and laughter of a friendly argument in progress. The other side of my bed is empty; I slide my hand across the cool sheets and wonder idly if Riley would be back or if I should get up and investigate the kitchen ruckus. My rumbling tummy decides for me, and I pull on a flowy kimono and slip into the bathroom. After splashing water on my face, I pat my skin dry with a towel and smile into the mirror in wonder. It's like looking at pictures of your friends when they were children—but in reverse.

The generous amount of silver "wisdom sparkles" in my hair make me laugh out loud as I turn this way and that to check out different angles in the light. I resolve once again never to dye them. The laugh brings out every crinkle around my eyes and mouth. I'm proud of those crinkles—evidence of years of joy.

I pad down the stairs to find the kitchen full of food and people. The argument turns out to be about which variation of the Munchkin card game is the best. Riley hands me a plate full of eggs and turkey bacon and toast, and a mug of coffee, and I settle into my favorite seat at the end of the long table, where I can see the whole room. Jody hugs everyone before leaving for work. Sara and Kim decide that second breakfast is better justified if they take a nap first, and drift back to their room.

Riley refills our coffee cups and takes a seat at the table. We survey the chaos—the dishes, the piles of books, the clutter, the dog toys—and grin at each other. "You ever worry about bringing people over here, or what our parents would think if they could see how we live?" they ask.

"Nope, I don't give a rat's ass. I love this life. I love this house and the people in it. I even love the mess. I've got way better things to do with my time than worry about what anyone else thinks of me."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

adoptedwriter

I enjoyed the vignettes showing the passage of time and evolution of thought. Well-done!

tigrkittn

Thank you!

muchtooarrogant

I liked the seasonal progression, and the progression of your protagonist with them. Too bad she didn't pay more attention to her mom in the Spring, but of course she didn't. LOL

Dan

If fourteen-year-old girls listened to their mothers, the world would be a much different place, LOL

chasing_silver

Loved this whole entry. A gorgeous piece.

tamara_in_jakarta

I like how you worked the seasons in to this.

unmowngrass

I liked the structure of this, and the way it came full circle.

Thanks! I'm glad that worked for you!

rayaso

I really enjoyed the seasonal structure of this, and I especially loved framing and displaying the divorce decree - what a great idea!

I'm so glad you liked it!

mollywheezy

I loved how you showed your journey from caring what other people think to not giving a rat's ass what anyone else thinks, lol. Great job!

I think that happens naturally with age, LOL! But I'm glad the story worked for you!

drippedonpaper

I found parts of this very relatable. My hair is turning white, and I'm not going to dye it.

Divorce can definitely be a great beginning sometimes.

And yes, all freedom comes when you really don't care anymore what others think. That's a goal of mine recently.

I love your imagery. Somehow you mix dialogue and imagery so well. It's hard for me to get the balance on those "right".

Great job :)

Thank you so much! Dialogue is my favorite thing to write - I do ok with narration, and descriptions and imagery are hard for me.

halfshellvenus

Very nice structure and evolution of the character's life!

fausts_dream

I love the craftsmanship in this, so many writers in top form this week.

I agree everyone brought their A-game this week!

roina_arwen

With age comes wisdom, and the whole "laissez faire" attitude (which I probably didn't spell right).

Those post-40 "look at the field where I grow my Fs and see that it is barren!"

banana_galaxy

I wonder whether or not I'd have framed my divorce decree if it looked fancier than pages of paperwork and a signed court order... It was a proud time in my life, but I found myself celebrating it in other ways. I sadly related to the first half of the story even more. Some of my stand-up comedy is based on those experiences in my life.

I think it's an almost-universal experience for girls and women - caring far too much as a teen is completely natural, and the older we get the more self-possessed we become.