Love,
Jamie Ann
The Meadow
Back in June of 2001, I came across an unexpected magical meadow hidden in a forest, a place of beauty and serenity, a place where few had ever been, a special place like no other. Each of the people who had found this place and decided to come back planted a flower. In time, many different flowers bloomed. I planted my own flower here, too. Each gardener was careful not to step on the others’ flowers because everyone knew the delicacy of life. We all took the time to keep the weeds at bay, not just around our own flower, but over the whole meadow. We also took the time to care for the flowers planted in the distance, as well as those planted in the main group. Each of us helped keep each other’s flower healthy and safe. The diverse beauty of life abounded. It was a breathtaking sight, which brought happiness to all who saw it. One could not help but fall in love with such a place.
Over time there were storms and drought, and an occasional animal trampled through. But as long as the gardeners took care of each other’s flowers, all survived and bloomed. Some of the earliest gardeners didn’t like having their flower planted among a crowd and took their flower elsewhere. It was heartbreaking to visit the meadow and see a freshly dug hole where a favorite flower had been, but as long as many other flowers remained, and more kept appearing, it was a wonderful place to visit, anyway. We all knew that the missing flower was still alive and being cared for somewhere else, so all was OK with the world.
Through the years others found the hidden meadow and in time the meadow filled with the beauty of the diverse flowers each of us had planted. For the most part, the gardeners kept the weeds at bay and propped up the flowers that the occasional animal had trampled until those flowers could stand on their own, growing and blooming once again. A few times, the work was hard, for there had been numerous animals rampaging through, and many flowers trampled. And it became evident in time that some of the gardeners weren't caring for everyone’s flowers, just their own. The good gardeners understood and took up the slack, hoping that the new gardener would learn that it took all of us working together to maintain the meadow if we wished its beauty to continue for all to enjoy.
In time the meadow was filled with flowers, and it was simply overwhelming to see. I never knew there were so many different kinds of flowers, and I loved them all, for they were all worth a closer look, and they all had their own special beauty that no ohter flower possessed. But the job of caring for the meadow also was becoming overwhelming, and sometimes it felt like the weeds were gaining. Upon a closer look one day, it seemed that someone had been planting weeds. Maybe more than one had been doing this. I worried that some of the gardeners might not understand how little it would take for the weeds to get out of hand and kill the flowers, and there had been a lot more incidents of animals carelessly trampling through as well. It was becoming impossible to care for the meadow properly now, and while it was still beautiful, a closer look showed the weeds beginning to win, the flowers beginning to wilt. The newer visitors weren’t staying to plant their flowers here anymore. I wondered what to do. I left a note for the owner of the meadow, pleading for help, and the owner built a fence which helped a little, but the fence wasn’t very tall. I had too much time invested to just walk away; I cared too much. My flower was here, too!
I wondered what had become of all the gardeners who once helped to maintain the meadow’s beauty. Most of the other gardeners seemed to have quit working, although a few still tried, as I did. Some had quit caring for the flowers of others and just took care of their own. Didn’t they realize that the special beauty here was because of all the flowers, not just theirs? What good would it do them in the long run if they ended up as one of a few flowers remaining, with not a caring soul taking time to see them anymore? Just weeds and amimals trampling through at will. And what would I do with my own flower? It had taken me a lot of time and work to keep my flower alive, and there was really no other place I had found that I wanted it to be. Everywhere else I’d seen seemed to lack the magic that once imbued this meadow.
Tonight I relized where the magic had come from. It was something that open, honest, and caring people had given. It was the love in their hearts. And now, for the most part, it was gone or hidden. The new majority were planting too many weeds for me to deal with anymore. The owner doesn’t tend the fence very well. It is time for me to join those who have taken their flowers elsewhere, yet I don’t want to go. Is there hope that the magic will return to my precious meadow? Is there hope that the owner will pay more attention to the fence? I can’t say, but this much I know: I will not let my flower die. I have knocked the dust off of my shovel and prepared a pot. They stand in the corner awaiting my next move. There’s still hope, but not much and not for long. It is a very sad feeling in my heart as I sit here in the meadow wondering where all the beauty and all the other caring gardeners have gone.
The analogies are obvious and I feel no need to explain more. No mere words can change things now. Only magic has the power to renew the meadow we call the Cross Dressers Discussion Forum.
Penny T
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