Patio

She sat down at her patio. Smell her morning brew. Sip a bit warm caffeine. A kick start to start the day. Sun already up in Boston. Sound of the car passing by humming from the outside. 

She had dim memories what happen in Providence. Time flies fast. Coming back to Providence always bring a memory about her childhood. Disappointment, the feeling for taking for granted, unloved, is the worst when it comes from the first priority. She remembered about time when she crying so hard. She would stuff a pillow into her mouth, to be unheard. 

For years she tried to help herself. To put what she felt into words. That feeling would ebb, but never fully go away. It would form part of her landscape.

The warm of the cup in her hand already gone. She taught herself that people are unique. They're neither what she thought nor her expectation. Some people changed just like the cup loose the heat. Some people stay being who they are, no matter how hard you try to fix them. 

She came back to the kitchen, put the cup in the sink. Then came back to her patio. Standing on her toes, spraying the plants above her head. Even in her tiny patio there are many plants that she watered every day. But each of them growing in different pace, different time for blossom. 

We can’t measure blessing. Because each of us have our own blessing, be patience when have nothing.