In the summer after first year, I was asked to care for a few of my friend's plants. Among them was a Peace Lily, though in the year she had cared for it, the plant had never bloomed. That summer I lived in a ground-level suite that never really saw much sunlight, and consequently her other plants died; but the lily lived on.

When school resumed, my friend never came to retrieve her one remaining plant and I was somewhat happy for it. I had grown fond of the verdant plant. Another year passed and still the lily hadn't bloomed. When the summer came along again it was my turn to give my plants to some friends to take care of. By the time I returned, my peace lily was thriving! but, no flowers.

At the beginning of this school year, I gave up on hoping that she would ever bloom. Perhaps she wasn't really a peace lily after all and just some leafy plant my friend mistakenly bought. I had done everything I was supposed to: put her in as much sunlight as possible, kept her away from heat sources and watered her regularly. She would go through periods where her leaves would turn brown and during exams, she would go weeks without watering; it would take her withered droopiness to remind me to water her. Yet she always found reason to live.

In January of this year, I rearranged my room and found that I no longer had shelf space for my lily. She somehow got stuck on the floor, in the corner, by my heater and somewhat forgotten. I would notice her crispy burnt leaves by the heater and cringe, but was much to busy to take care of her.

Today, as I was talking to a friend about my plants, I lamented over this sad story. Just as I had decided I was going to finally get rid of her, I looked over and saw something white under one of the leaves. On closer inspection I saw that she had bloomed! I was filled with such overwhelming excitement... after three years of waiting and finally giving up, my plant had taught me a lesson. Good things in life don't bloom on MY time, they bloom on their own and no matter how much I try to make them happen they will happen only when they are ready.

Through all the hard times, my peace lily survived. And of all the times to finally reveal the beauty of her flower, she chose a time of war. She couldn't have convinced me anymore strongly that she is, indeed, a peace lily.

(written around the time of the first attacks on Iraq)