Stopping to Smell the Flowers

In my entire life, I have never really made an effort to notice or stop and smell the flowers until I met my husband. He would point them out while we were out and about as a family. We always had somewhere we were on our way to, or to go, and he would trail behind only for us to look behind and he was happily smelling the flowers we practically rushed by. Sometimes he would call us all to come over and smell them. Occasionally he would snap a picture of us smelling the flowers in a memorializing way.

It was never something that meant anything to me. I was always distracted by where I was going or the mission I was on. In fact, I often found it irritating when he broke my stride to make me smell a flower that was basically a weed. It must have been pretty but sure didn’t have a fragrance.

Fast forward to Februrary 2025 Mazatlan Mexico. I notice the vibrant colored flowers everywhere. On walls, in cracks of the sidewalk, nestled next to pools or buildings, in vacant lots of rubble. The flowers are everywhere. In Mexico they are a part of the culture. They are ceremonial. They represent the joy in living with beauty here. I slowed down. I started to notice. I started to appreciate every little blossom I passed by. I have even changed my path every day up to our apartment so I can keep track of the growth of little buds having no idea what it will end up looking like. I LOVE the anticipation. I love the small joy I am getting from these little flowers. I LOVE taking pictures of them.