Blue Button
Pepper Scott
I had spent my whole life aiming for capable, dependable, responsible, and apparently landed squarely in cute.
Looking back, I realize that was one of the very last conversations we shared.
Funny how life works.
You never know which ordinary Tuesday afternoon is quietly becoming a treasured memory.
When this photo appeared today, I could hear that moment as clearly as if it had happened five minutes ago. The sunlight. The flower. His voice. My laughter.
The whole thing arrived at once, like a bird returning to a familiar branch.
Since Terry went away, I have kept our conversations going.
I talk to him all the time.
Not the big dramatic speeches you see in movies. Mostly the everyday stuff.
I tell him what Jolie has been up to. I complain about things that need fixing. I report on garden victories that would seem wildly insignificant to anyone else.
I am quite certain he still hears every word.
And I am equally certain he answers.
His replies simply arrive on a frequency my human ears cannot quite pick up.
That seems fair.
After all, Terry always did enjoy having information before the rest of us.
So I keep the conversations light. A little silly. Occasionally ridiculous.
I know he would prefer laughter over long faces.
And somewhere along the way, that tiny Blue Button became more than just a flower.
It became a reminder.
At the time, I was proud of it for surviving.
Now I understand why.
It was standing there alone, blooming anyway.
Making the best of the space it had been given.
Not waiting for perfect conditions.
Just growing.
The truth is, I never imagined I would one day be navigating this big life by myself. Making all the decisions. Solving all the problems. Carrying all the responsibilities that we once shared.
Not cute.
Tough.
Apparently Terry knew what he was talking about.
The little Blue Button is long gone now, but its photograph remains. A tiny splash of blue surrounded by a sea of green. A survivor among many seeds that never quite made it.
And here I am.
Still tending the garden.
Still taking care of our sweet Jolie.
Still talking to Terry.
Still growing in places I never expected.
Some days are easier than others, but I keep blooming anyway.
Just like that little flower.
Cute is still debatable.
Tough, however, seems to be settling in quite nicely.
Today, a photo popped up in my memory box.
Just one little Blue Button.
Tiny. Bright. Determined.
I remember when it bloomed. Out of hundreds of seeds I had sown, only this one decided to rise up and wave its blue petals at the world. By then, Terry had already lost much of his ability to speak, so every word he managed felt precious. I was so excited about that flower that I marched right over and showed him the picture.
He looked at it and said, “That little thing is like you, cute and tough.”
I laughed.
Of course I laughed.