Love

The man shielded his eyes as he gazed up at the sun setting behind the mountain. 

“What a majestic sight.” 

Then the man walked over to his rocking chair and sat down.

“What a relaxing feeling.” 

After a while he noticed a small flower growing next to his foot. He bent down and gently smelled it.

“What a wonderful smell.”

Tired, the man walked into his home and went to bed. 

“Did you hear that?” Asked the mountain. “He said I am majestic! He loves me the most.” 

“Did you hear that?” Asked the rocking chair. “He said I was relaxing! He loves me the most.”

“Did you hear that?” Asked the flower. “He said I had a wonderful smell! He loves me the most.”

The mountain and the chair both burst out laughing. 

“The man could never need a flower, the way he needed a mountain or a chair,” they said.

Hurt, the flower held its tongue, and said nothing.

The flower watched for years as the mountain and the chair argued over who was the mans favorite. Who gave him the most, who was appreciated more. But the flower never said a word. 

Until one day, when a great storm came. Water, rocks, and mud rushed down the mountain side crushing the mans house. It crippled everything he owned, including his rocking chair. 

By now, the the fragile little flower had grown into a large strong tree. 

As the man washed away, he was grabbed by one of the tree’s branches and pulled to safety. 

“What a majestic sight,” said the man, admiring the strong thick branches covered in leaves. “And what a relaxing feeling” he said, sitting safely above the raging waters. “Was this not the tiny flower I used to smell?” he asked. 

And the tree smiled.

Written by Jason Osmond