It’s taken a long time for it to flower. What has it been, three years or was it four? He bought it for me for my birthday. It’s huge now. And its leaves curl over the pot. It leans. Like me. But it has flowered, with the first one opening yesterday. It is a beauty – white and fulsome with yellow and mauve stripes in its core. There are three more to come. It is enough. There is life. There is hope. I’ve just remembered that that was what I was going to write about. Well, firstly the woman yesterday who asked me to not draw her and hope. I wait, breath held, to hear about whether I’ve been shortlisted. I won’t hear if I haven’t. Can I hope? Is it still possible? I must leave it be. There is life to be lead, to be lived meanwhile. And what will be will be. Won’t it?
