Bowed but Unbroken

Nobody believed me. That was their first mistake. It almost became my mistake, too.

But can you blame me?

You see, as a city flower, I didn’t have the best start in life. Country flowers, when still seedlings, are carried by friendly winds and dropped into green nursery fields with lots of dark, rich soil. There, surrounded by caring plarents and grandplarents, and nourished with lots of sky milk from regular baby showers, they have a mighty start. They send their little dark-brown feet-roots deep enough to stand on their tippy toes and take their first peek outside.

And what do they see? Only the welcoming, golden face of a warm sun who gives more than enough light to make all the sugar they can eat.

They have no idea how good they have it!

But me, you ask?

First, allow me to introduce myself.

***

My name is Lily Liontooth. My plarents grew up as wildflowers. We’re dandelions, which is where I got my name. Well, at least my last name. Dandelion means lion tooth.

All kinds of families lived in our neighborhood under Oak Tree. There were the Daisys, the Clovers, the Chickweeds, and last but not least, the Lilys—where I got my first name.

Eventually, our field was bought by humans. The oak tree on top of the hill was chopped down and a house erected in its place. My plarents were killed in a lawn-mowing accident. I was only a seedling, but was violently torn from their arms and flung into a strong wind named Thunderhead.

Thunderhead was angry. I don’t know why, but he must’ve kept thinking about it awfully hard because he grew angrier and angrier until he worked himself into a twisting rampage and started destroying everything in his path. I was terrified but could only close my eyes and hope for the best.

Eventually, he calmed down and I was able to hitch a ride with a cloud named Mrs. Nimbus. Boy, was I glad to get away from Thunderhead! Mrs. Nimbus was so calm and nice and I was so tired that I finally slept. I must’ve slept for two whole days.

When I awoke, I recognized nothing. The land, sky and temperature were all different. I watched as forests of trees became forests of houses—and forests of houses became forests of concrete.

“This is as far as I go,” said Mrs. Nimbus with a grandmotherly smile. “This is your stop.”

“But I want to stay with you.”

“I’m sorry, Lily. My time in the skies is nearing its end.”

“But, I have no one else!” I cried. “Please! Please, don’t go.”

Her face grew sad as she handed me over to a cabby named Mr. Breeze. “I’ll never forget you, Lily. You’re a precious child. Remember to take hold of even the smallest wins. They’ll carry you further than I ever could.”

Her voice faded as she dissipated into the blue sky that was quickly turning smog-grey. Tears stung my eyes and my body ached, longing for the rich soil of home. What I got instead was a hard boot from Mr. Breeze that sent me face first onto blistering asphalt, right into the middle of oncoming traffic. A big truck honked and swerved, narrowly missing a car and almost turning me into a dandelion pancake.

The wind from his tires blasted me onto a sidewalk. I rolled like a tumbleweed under shoes and over benches and past houseplants in window sills.

Then a human kid stepped on me. I got stuck in a wad of bubble gum on his shoe bottom. I struggled to escape but wasn’t in time for his foot to land. Thankfully, I was in a crack in his heel and wasn’t smashed. The world went up and down and up and down until we rounded a corner by a laundromat into a back alley. There were lots of apartments stacked on top of one another, connected by metal staircases and clothes lines strung from window to window.

I gave one last struggle and managed to break free, only to get stuck in a cat’s fur. He ended up being my last connecting flight to what was to become my new home at the back of the alley. He scratched me off into a small crack in the concrete.

As I lay there beside filth, grime and garbage, I was finally able to grieve my plarents and Mrs. Nimbus. I wept and wept until I wept myself to sleep. I dreamed I was on an endless flight to nowhere, with no one left to care for me—an abandoned orphan left to die in a ditch in a cruel world that couldn’t care less.

***

I woke up the next morning in a fright, expecting the nightmare to be over.

But instead of my mom’s voice, there were sirens and horns. Instead of trees swaying in the breeze, there were skyscrapers. Instead of a healthy breakfast of nitrogen-eggs, there was concrete. Instead of sky milk, there was smog. Instead of the warm face of the sun, there was a sky furnace intent on killing me.

I’d never been so hungry before or since. I was withering away, in desperate need of sustenance.

I reached my tippy toes down into the crack in search of soil—any soil, even dust. I grunted, panted and labored, but all in vain. Just when I began crying, my foot-root found a soft spot. I pushed through as far as I could until I hit a barrier.

A foothold. Yes!

As I sought more spots I could push through, a drop of rain soaked my head. I looked up, hoping to see Mrs. Nimbus, but there was nothing but a window sill with some houseplants. I looked at my foot-root and it started raining from the window!

How was that possible?

I didn’t know or care, because the rain tasted so good. I drank and drank until the shower became a flood and washed me out of my foothold and deeper into the crack. I looked up in time to see a hand pull a watering can inside.

Two wet roses looked down at me.

“Poor dear,” said Mrs. Rose. “Are you ok?”

“Better now that I’ve had something to drink, thank you.”

“Oh, I wish there was more I could do.”

“Really, Rose,” whispered Mrs. Thorn, “you may have actually done the poor thing a disservice. You know she probably won’t make it.”

“Nonsense! How can you speak like that, Thorn?”

“You know she’s right,” a voice called out from a window sill across the alley. “Do you see any other plants living down there? There’s a reason it’s called Wither Valley.”

“Wither Valley?” I cried.

“Cactus is right,” said Mrs. Thorn. “By watering the poor thing, she’ll only have to suffer longer.”

“But,” I said, “Mrs. Nimbus said to hold on to even the smallest of wins because they matter more than people know.”

“That’s right, dear,” said Mrs. Rose. “She was a wise cloud, that one. Don’t you listen to these naysayers. You’ll be just fine.”

“If you want my opinion,” said Cactus, “there’s no blooming way she’ll last more than a few days.”

“I’ve heard quite enough!” yelled Mrs. Rose. “All of you! Have mercy on the poor dear.”

“Bah!” they said.

As they were arguing, my other foot-root found a soft spot. I pushed through further this time and concrete crumbled down my leg. I pushed my arm through, then my other, concrete crumbling down my neck and back. Just then, clouds passed by and cooled the sky furnace. I pointed my face upward and smiled, soaking up the energy, Mrs. Rose’s comfort, and Mrs. Nimbus’s advice.

***

Day after day I pushed through more concrete, making the crack wider. New cracks appeared. The concrete started looking like a blanket covering where my feet poked through. I grew so tall I could finally see over the crack—first down the flat pavement all the way down the alley, then eye level with the alley cat I hitched my last ride on.

One day, the alley cat chased a bird in. It chirped and threw a seedling down beside me and flew up and over the apartment buildings.

As I looked up, a familiar voice came from below. “Lily? Lily Liontooth? Is that you?”

“Four-Leaf? But that’s impossible. How’d you—”

“It’s a long story. I’m just glad to see you!”

“Me too. I thought I’d never see anyone from under Oak Tree again. But wait… I thought there was no one left after the humans came?”

“That was almost true. The man of the house wanted to get rid of what he called ‘weeds.’ The Chickweeds were uprooted, the Daisys were placed in a vase to slowly wither, and the Liontooths were…” a look of horror passed across her face. “Oh! I’m so glad you’re alive!”

“What about the Clovers? Are your plarents…?”

“That’s the thing. The man of the house was about to kill us too before the woman of the house intervened. She said that a ‘weed’ was really just someone’s opinion about who’s wanted or not. She said she wanted the Clovers to remain right where they were so they could become the foundation of her new garden. So, the man built a fence around us. We grew alongside all kinds of vegetables and flowers and were doing pretty good. Then, one day these horrid birds started plucking some of my aunts and uncles away. I too, was plucked and carried all the way here.”

“Wow. What are the odds?”

“I know! But now there’s just one problem. I can’t seem to find my root-footing. How did you—”

I laughed and helped Four-Leaf find her root-footing by sharing the openings I had widened. Before long, we found ourselves growing so well together that the cracks in the concrete grew ever wider. Our friendship intertwined at the root level like neither of us thought we would ever enjoy again. Mrs. Rose could often be heard uttering expressions of wonder and awe while Cactus and Mrs. Thorn sneered and scoffed.

One evening, we listened to a radio broadcast coming from an open window. The announcer said that “clovers and dandelions, even though labeled as ‘weeds’ by some homeowners, actually grow very well together. They form highly resilient, mutually beneficial ecological partnerships in lawn or garden spaces. That’s why other homeowners will often combine them to create sustainable, low-maintenance ‘bee lawns.’”

As he spoke, a bee landed on Four-Leaf and we giggled from pure joy.

Maybe this old alleyway wasn’t so bad, after all, we said while watching the sun set behind a skyscraper.

***

The next day, at the corner laundromat, there was a young human couple holding hands and dancing. They were clearly in love. They danced, sang, kissed and blushed while Four-Leaf and I enjoyed the show!

They danced down the alley right toward us.

“Oh, look! A four leaf clover!” said the young man.

“Really?” the girl said. “In an alley?”

“Yes, and beside a dandelion.”

She bent down. “Don’t they make a cute pair?”

“Just like us. This must be especially lucky.”

“Yes! It’s like a sign that we’re meant to be.”

With that, he reached down and plucked Four-Leaf right out of our little home. Pain seared through my body. Our roots had become so intertwined that taking her was taking part of me. I cried, and Four-Leaf cried, but there was nothing we could do.

The young man handed Four-Leaf to the girl, who cupped her in her hand before carefully placing her into the pocket of her bright, floral dress. It was like some cruel joke as they skipped off, happy as could be—as if they hadn’t just separated two people who only had one another left in the world.

Four-Leaf tried saying something, but it was too muffled through the dress.

They danced out and the rain marched in. It rained so hard I thought I would be washed away again. It stung my exposed roots and pounded my head down. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Cats and humans took shelter, but I had to stay and face the storm’s full fury.

As I lay there taking the beating, I looked up and saw Cactus in the window shaking his head. Mrs. Thorn did the same as she shut the window.

Why were humans so cruel? I thought. Why did they always have to make others suffer to make themselves happy? What did I ever do to deserve this?

I bowed my head, certain this must be my end.

***

The next day was dark and unusually smoggy. A baby cried from a high apartment. Clothes hanging on lines above me dripped the tears of their owners. Two alley cats shrieked and fought over rotten sardines.

And me? Well, it’s safe to say that I had pretty much given up.

As I wallowed in my misery, a window opened above me. “Feeling down, are you?” It was the gruff voice of Cactus.

“Why don’t you just leave me alone for once?”

“I deserved that,” he said, hanging his head. “I really did.”

I looked up for the first time since Four-Leaf was stolen. He was crying.

“Are you ok?” I said in alarm. “What happened?”

He smiled through his tears. “I miss hearing you and Four-Leaf laugh. It was the best part of my day.” I looked at him in disbelief. “You see, until you came, I believed in keeping others out. That’s why I grew all these needles.”

“I thought they were for protection?”

“They are. But I guess I was fighting off the wrong things. We all have some things we should keep out and some we should let in. You’ve taught me that I should let some things in.”

I looked at my torn roots where Four-Leaf used to be and slumped my shoulders. “Yeah, but when you let other people in, you get hurt.”

Cactus spoke with a calmness I had never heard in him. “It’s never a mistake to love, Lily Liontooth.”

I was touched but not quite so convinced.

After a minute, Cactus broke the silence. “It has nothing to do with luck.”

“What?”

“That’s what Four-Leaf was trying to tell you from that girl’s pocket. It has nothing to do with luck.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, think about it,” said Mrs. Rose. I guess she had been eavesdroopping. “Ever since you’ve arrived, you’ve worked hard against every disadvantage. You’ve bloomed where you were planted. Where others saw a crack, you saw an opportunity. You’ve grown through what you’ve gone through.”

“I think,” said Cactus, “what Four-Leaf was trying to say, is that your surviving Wither Valley wasn’t due to luck—it was due to persistence.”

“I may have survived,” I said. “But no one else did. So what’s the point?”

“The point is,” interjected Mrs. Thorn, “that you have proven all of us liars, except Mrs. Rose. Now we’re your family and friends.”

I looked up at them. Their smiling faces were joined by another one as the clouds parted and the sun looked down on us with that same smile he used to have under Oak Tree. I felt a small flame of hope rising in my heart. I tried lifting my head but was still too weak.

Right then, the girl with the flower dress showed back up and reached into her pocket. I lifted my head from terror, and just before fainting she started taking photos. Cactus, Mrs. Rose and Mrs. Thorn all gasped.

***

The next day I was awoken by a familiar voice.

“Four-Leaf!” I said.

We embraced, cried and laughed.

“How’d you come back?” I asked.

“The girl with the flower dress. She’s actually a nice person. She planted me right back beside you, but only after taking pictures.”

“And wouldn’t you know it,” said Mrs. Thorn, looking towards the kitchen table from her window sill, “your picture is on the cover of a magazine!”

This sent the whole neighborhood into a commotion.

“Lily’s picture?”

“What magazine?”

“What does it say?”

“Looks like the girl who took Lily’s picture yesterday,” said Mrs. Thorn, “is a popular influencer and photographer. She took a beautiful picture of Lily in full bloom.”

“You mean that picture,” said Cactus.

A gust of wind carried a crumpled magazine cover into the alley. It landed at my feet. When I saw my face I gasped. I was in full bloom! I felt my face and ran my fingers across soft, yellow petals—just like my mom had.

I realized this must be why they gasped yesterday. I thought I was going to die, but they saw my bloom.

Mrs. Thorn continued, “The magazine cover says, ‘Bowed But Unbroken.’ It’s about how a single dandelion is inspiring a movement to reclaim parts of Plant City.”

“That’s what I heard,” said Cactus. “They plan on making our alley the beginning of a series of nature reset spots, with Lily as the crowning centerpiece.”

The conversation went on like that with people praising me. We were all so happy. But, to be honest, I don’t feel I deserved all that praise. I’m just an ordinary flower pushing through concrete. But I guess that’s the point, isn’t it?

In the end, their first mistake was that nobody believed me. That almost became my mistake, too. But their second mistake was that they underestimated the power of small wins.

That’s what I want to leaf you with. When you feel the odds are stacked against you, that your efforts to love and be loved keep backfiring, and that where you are in life isn’t where you wanted to be, please know this:

If you take hold of any root-foothold you can and fight, in time you’ll once again feel the warmth of the sun on your face, because you may be bowed, but you are not broken!