I remember the day my teacher handed me a sunflower seed at the end of science class. We were learning about photosynthesis, one of the things that third graders apparently needed to know to go onto fourth grade. She wove between the table groups of six desks and passed out tiny pots to each student. She then came around with those compact circles of dirt that expand once they met water. When she finally gave us the seed in a small baggie, other kids were astonished; I was unimpressed. It was just a black and white seed. What could it really do?

I carried it onto the bus and took special care of it, worried that if I brought the pot home broken, my parents would be angry. I stepped off of stairs of the bus, the sun’s heat radiating warmth onto my back as my shoes collided with the ground. I trudged through the warmth up my driveway. I opened my front door and walked in, greeted by a breeze of cold air. I put down the pot on my kitchen table before setting my backpack on the chair. My mom came out from behind the computer and exclaimed at the sight of my new plant.

“What is this?”

“A sunflower seed. Our teacher gave it to us because we’re learning about photosynthesis.”

My mom picked up the pot and the disk of dirt and helped me set it up. We put the disk in water, letting it expand before putting the seed in it. We covered the seed with more soil before putting the mass of dirt into the pot. We finished by setting the pot by the windowsill.

“You have to water it almost every day,” My mom told me, “And you can’t use too much water, or else it will die.”

I looked past her and stared at the pot. I didn’t want to take care of this plant. I didn’t want it to be my responsibility. However, I nodded at all of the information my mom told me, promising that I would take care of it all by myself.

In between homework and reading, I watched the plant every day. I felt the soil and watered it when it was dry, making sure not to flood it.

Finally, after a week, the seed sprouted. It didn’t take long after that for the flower to bud, and the blood to form. It was time to move it to the backyard, and into a bigger pot. I walked up to it after school, taking the pot from the windowsill and bringing it to my dad, who was sitting in the living room.

“Look at my sunflower! We should get a pot for it and bring it to the backyard!”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at what I had brought him.

“It looks amazing, but you’ll have to wait until mom is home from work, Trinity.”

“Okay,” I said, the disappointment heavy in my voice.

I went to my room, opening the windowsill and setting the flower into it. I did my homework next to it and listened carefully, waiting for the familiar sound of the garage door opening to signal the return of my mom so I could pot my plant. I listened as the sun set. I listened as the night came. I listened as I got ready for bed. But there was nothing.

Disappointment radiated from my body as I got into bed. My dad gave me a kiss goodnight and turned off the lights.

“I’m sorry that mom is late today. We’ll replant your flower tomorrow, I promise.” He said with a smile before closing the door.

His words meant a lot, but did nothing to make me feel better. I cried into my pillow, sobbing quietly. I can’t remember falling asleep, but I know I did.

I woke up early the next morning, going into the garage while everyone else was sleeping. I found the biggest pot we had and a bag of soil leftover from when my mom was planting flowers earlier that month.

I dragged the bag to where the pot was, rolling it back open and doing my best to pour it cleanly into the pot. I filled the pot up a quarter of the way with soil, but got soil all over the garage in the process.

I was afraid of what my parents would say, but tried not to care as I rolled up the soil bag and returned it to its original place. I dragged the pot to the door, the sound of the ceramic on the cement making me cringe. I then went back to my room, going back to sleep before my alarm woke me up. I dressed and got ready for school quickly before grabbing my sunflower from the windowsill. I carried it to the garage carefully, setting it down next to the big pot. I dug a small hole in the center of the larger pot before carefully taking out my sunflower from the smaller pot. I set it in the hole in the soil, smoothing out the soil before smiling at my finished work. But, now came the hard part.

I gathered up all my strength and lifted the pot. I ran with it as far as I could go before my arms got tired and I had to set it down again. I was halfway around the house. I dragged it the rest of the way before having to lift it onto my back patio. I let the pot sit close to the edge, making sure that it got enough sunlight. I smiled at it one last time before going inside. I had missed breakfast after all that, and had to run to catch the bus.

After school, I ran to my backyard to see my flower. Astonishingly, it had grown at least a half of a foot, and the bud was fully grown in. I watered it, proud of my creation.

Throughout that day, my parents said nothing to me about the soil in the garage. They might not have found it, or maybe they did not want to upset me, being that my birthday was in two days.

I waited anxiously for that morning. I woke up early and put on a beautiful pink maxi dress, the one I had deemed my official birthday outfit a month prior. I woke up to presents from my mom and my sister, but my dad was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s dad?” I asked.

“He had to go into work. He probably won’t be home until later tonight. I’m sorry, Trinity.” My mom replied.

I wanted to cry. He’s always home. My birthday wouldn’t be the same without him.

While my mom prepared for my party later and my sister went into her room, I went outside and laid next to my flower. A tear rolled down my cheek, the sun drying it almost instantly.

“It’s okay, I suppose,” I had said to the flower, “He’ll be home tomorrow. And he’ll be here for my birthday next year,”.

These revelations only made me feel a little bit better, but I had to go inside. The party was starting soon.

My mom finally laid out all of the food and my friends started to arrive, bringing presents. I invited my whole class, which was custom to every person having a party. I waited for everyone to arrive, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my crush, Max.

After an hour, everyone was there. Except for him. I felt the familiar weight of disappointment on my shoulders once again, the sadness setting in. The festivities went on around me, but I felt like a bystander. It was like I was in a bubble, just watching everything go on around me. It was like I wasn’t really there. I went to my room after a while, sitting sadly on my bed. My best friend, Amanda, found me.

“Are you alright? I noticed that Max didn’t come.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “I really wanted to see him.”

“You know,” She said, “This party is for you, not him. You should go and have a good time, and stop being worried about him.”

“You know what? You’re right,” I said, giving her a strong smile.

We went back out together. I started to have more fun as we played more games and ate cake. By the end of the night, I forgot all about him.

Everyone had left by sunset, and I went back outside to my plant. It had grown almost a foot, the flower in full bloom. It was facing the west, its leaves holding onto the last glimpses of sunlight in the distance. I smiled at it, the beautiful flower finally flourishing, knowing that I had flourished with it.