I WOULD BE ME.

 

The park wasn`t his of course, he was only its gardener, but since he had begun, he had worked to bring perfect colour to the flower beds.  Save for the last thing it was now exactly how he wanted it.  It smelled like home.

His mother had been happy in her garden. 

`Her little island of joy. ` She used to call it.

He touched at his hair under his cap and watched the last of the visitors leave the park.     

He`d said one day.  `I`m going to be a flower when I grow up. The most colourful flower in the garden. ` His mother had stopped then and turned to smile at him.   His mother`s smile the rarest of flowers.

` And what flower would you be? ` She`d asked.

` I would be me. ` He`d said.

She had returned to her pruning.

He made his quick way to the largest of the islands of flower beds, which mapped the park.

The soil was soft from the recent rains, and he easily prepared it for planting like he`d watched his mother do so many times.

He planted himself in the soft earth in the centre of the flower bed.

He removed his cap to reveal his hair all orange, yellow and green.      

` I would be me. ` He smiled as the rain came again and he bloomed at last.