Do they yearn to grow somewhere new each year? Do they hibernate under the surface dreaming of a new view? Are they disappointed when they emerge? Am I just projecting my unease on them?

They came up in the same place as last year, just like me, not a lot has changed since they went to sleep. Do I want everything to change, no; would I be upset if a lot of it did, no.

Will anything have changed by next Spring? For the flowers maybe, I can move them somewhere new. For me? Probably not, the unknown is a terrifying monster, especially when you crave stability and comfort.

If you’re unhappy are those really things that matter? Depends when you ask me.

Sometimes I am willing to implode my life to go find something new, something that might inspire me. Other days I feel I should be incredibly grateful for what I have and never consider throwing it away for something so fluffy as “happiness”.

Still I wonder if I took my flowers and found them a different view if we’d both be pleased.