Flowers bloom, and people grow.

What was once new, will become old.

When does a child know?

That they have outgrown their youth.

Mommy and Daddy stopped holding my hand.

They told me that they could not carry me through life.

I was put through the wringer

And I emerged from the other side unscathed.

The epiphany that I was no longer a child hit me.

When I embraced uncertainty and adversity,

I grew.

Blossomed into a young woman.

A beautiful flower that had withstood a storm.

No longer a seedling,

Who needed someone to hold her hand.