The Late Bloomer

In the spring, Mia planted a sunflower seed beside the fence.

Every morning before school, she stopped by the garden to see how it was doing. First came a tiny green shoot. Then a few leaves. Week by week, the sunflower grew taller.

The rest of the garden seemed to bloom without effort. The marigolds bloomed, then the zinnias, then the cosmos. Even the small flowers Mia had almost forgotten began opening their bright faces to the sun.

But the sunflower did not bloom. It only grew taller.

Every morning Mia checked for a flower.

Every morning she found another leaf instead.

By midsummer, the sunflower stood above nearly everything in the garden, with a thick stalk and wide green leaves, but still no golden face appeared.

Visitors noticed it too.

"That's a very tall plant," someone said.

"Is it supposed to bloom?" asked another.

Another shrugged. "If it were my garden, I'd probably replace it with something else. The marigolds seem much happier."

Mia always answered, "It will."

She named it Faith.

But some days, even she wondered.

Faith heard these conversations. All summer she had been busy. She had reached toward the sun, strengthened her stalk, and sent roots deep into the soil. Every day had taken effort. Still, the garden around her was full of flowers, and she had none.

Each morning Mia stopped beside her before school.

"Maybe tomorrow," she would say.

Then one morning, tomorrow arrived.

Yellow petals peeked from a newly opened bud.

By the end of the week, a great golden flower towered above the garden. It was larger than any bloom nearby.

Bees visited from morning until evening. People stopped along the fence to admire it.

One evening, Mia sat beside the garden and gazed up at the enormous flower. Around them, many of the early flowers were already fading.

Faith had taken longer than all the rest.

Yet she had missed nothing.