Maybe Being Alive is Enough for Now

Last Updated on May 27, 2026 by Stacy Averette

Forsythia lives in my backyard. I can see her from the kitchen window when I wash dishes. She hasn’t bloomed in years. A transplant from our old house in another state, where, perhaps, the soil was more fertile.

There she bloomed. I can see her now glowing golden at the edge of what was ours.

Of all the things we brought with us, it seems odd that we’d choose her. And then again, the investment seemed worthy.

For years, we enjoyed the shade of trees, the scent of peonies, and the magic of a secret garden we didn’t plant. The corner of our world was a vision of those we’d never met. Forsythia was our contribution to the joyful plot. It seemed right to carry her with us.

When I see her now, big and green without the yellow, I remember our life back there. It was big and green, too. We grew deeper together and spread our branches. We put down roots, and it felt like home. But home is not four walls and an address. And it’s different again. Roots are five-times-deep now. Or are they? Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

I chose the wrong place for Forsythia. She needs more light to be yellow. I’ll have to cut her back hard to prepare for another place, but she’ll adapt. Because risk becomes reward when you want to bloom.

She’s still trying to figure out how in this season. Maybe being alive, growing green and strong, is enough for now.