Too early for tulips

Tulips are always sold on the streets in March.  They should make me hopeful and joyous, as a sign of spring and lightness in the air. But somehow this year they have made me feel anxious. Why do they appear on stands earlier than on the flower beds? Are these  ground tulips, or are they grown in greenhouses as mass production? Do they artificially satisfy our craving for a change of season?

And then there are the ladies selling the tulips. They look tired and worn out by life, often one stand  near the other. I brought some once for a birthday for my aunt  today and she bargained with me to buy a whole bunch. I wondered if she worked for some big chain and had to sell a sufficient number to make her daily dole. 

Somehow  tulips make me sad this year. 

When February means November

That evening she talked about friendship in ways I had not heard her talk before. I knew she had astounding wisdom and depth of thought, but there was something honest and simple in the way she talked that night. The way she said it was sometimes difficult to open up and that she had needed a touch of friendship. 

There is that important moment in a friendship when you can mock one another gently and it won't be hurtful. She mentioned something that had happened in February but said November instead. She told me she had made that error a few times lately. I joked a bit a few times and so did she. 

It was one of the most beautiful evenings we had together.  Usually when we met we would irritate one another at some point: sometimes I could not break through her flood of words, she can not take some of the things I said in my youthful naivety.  That evening everything was calm and gentle, I hoped to remember it at other times.