I planted tulips because I associate them with my mom.  I measured and dug making sure they were right side up. I waited through the wind and the snow and the storms. I was rewarded with a garden full of vibrant color and fresh elegance. I didn't mind the sugaring snow that laced their feet 

or the fact that I could still see my breathe on a morning or two. They made my heart happy, and I couldn't help but smile as I went by the bountiful bouquet. But at the end of the next winter, which went from brisk to crisp and seemed to be stuck there, somebody was hangry! Instead of nestled bulbs readying for spring, the garden was holey. Though in a way I understood, it made me sad. One or two weeks later I saw it, I saw bravery breaking through, like a green knight, soon a tulip opened up my eyes and I gazed at that tulip till the last petal adorned the grass below it. Reminding me of the fragile gift life and memories are.