The Tulip Bed

Nearly a month ago, while walking across campus, I discovered a brilliant bed of yellow tulips running adjacent to the sidewalk. There was nothing extraordinary in this, except that among the prolific yellow flowers I noticed two which stood out from all the others. One of them was a fiery red, and the other a delicate shade of orange (if any shade of orange can be called delicate). These two flowers stood at least two feet apart from one another, surrounded by the yellow tulips on all sides. I could not help but seeing a story in it-- two kindred souls especially fashioned for one another, the entire universe constructed to facilitate their union. They have yet to meet, and for now they walk alone in a world that threatens to swallow them and among people who are incapable of comprehending them. But someday, someday that has been sanctioned by a heavenly driving force, these two tulips will observe one another from a distance. In that moment, they will know for what purpose they were created, and for what purpose they have walked thus far among the multitudes and have borne so long the sameness and monotony of life. They will rush to one another, and it will take only a matter of minutes to confirm the hand of providence in their meeting. They will find that they have the same thoughts and desires, the same fears and hopes. Though they may face monotony in their days and resistance from the boorish multitudes, they will be comforted in one another. The world will not swallow them up into its cold routines and soulless races. They will keep their souls burning bright, and will remain staunchly themselves until the end.

After encountering this fairy-tale in the tulip bed, I wanted to take a picture of it. I didn't have a camera with me at the time, however, and then I either forgot about it, or was too lazy. I didn't wander past that spot again until a few days later. This time I did happen to have a camera with me, so I walked up to the tulip bed, expecting to find the same thought-provoking arrangement as before. Upon examination, I found a different scene: there was not a single red or orange flower to be found in the whole bed. There was only row upon row of dish-glove yellow. I couldn't help but feel a little sad about it. It seemed that the souls of the two lovers had dulled with time and had been assimilated into the masses after all.