Upsy Daisy in the Bed of Roses
In a house not so far from this one, right over that hill, a peculiar little daisy lived in a small, but tidy garden.
This peculiar little daisy, whose name was Upsy, lived in a bed of roses.
The flowers to her right and to the left and even behind her had dark, tough stalks and velvety petals. Petals of red, pink, yellow and even some pretty oranges enveloped Upsy’s life.
These were the kind of colors that made you think of love, passion, and heartache.
Upsy, on the other hand, had a soft stem and bright white cottony petals that would bend and shiver when the wind blew too hard. If you were to look at Upsy, you would only feel what most people feel when they look at a daisy: very happy.
And because she was a daisy, Upsy was very happy. Mostly.
You see, since most daisies live in fields or gardens surrounded by other daisies, they are always thinking happy daisy thoughts and living happy daisy lives. And because of this, most daisies never think the thoughts that Upsy thought. But Upsy was special because she was a lone daisy in a bed of roses.
Sometimes, when the day waned, and the pinks, reds and oranges of the roses blended with the colors of the evening sun, Upsy would notice the white of her petals, the brightness of her face and the green of her stem.
She would wonder why she was different than all the flowers she had ever known.
She would wonder why the sky was blue and why the grass was green.
She would look at the House where The People lived and wonder what was inside.
She wondered quite a bit while the roses slept and since the roses never seemed to care about any of these things, Upsy would feel a little lonely when she wondered. Yet wonder she did.
Still, Upsy was loved.
The roses around Upsy would whisper softly to her, We love you Upsy, you are our special daisy, we are so happy to have you here. This made Upsy feel happy and special. In fact, she felt happier than most daisies ever feel because feeling special can make you very happy.
But many of you know that even feeling special will not make a daisy stop wondering when roses are asleep.
One day, Upsy heard a voice, “Since it’s my tea party,” a tinkling voice said, “I want to make the flower arrangement.”
Upsy was excited. She knew this pretty dark eyed girl, she was one of The People. If this girl took her into the House, Upsy might find out about what was inside, what made the grass green, or even why the sky was blue.
With all the might that any daisy has ever mustered, Upsy leaned forward eagerly, towards what she hoped would be answers and to what she knew was sure to be an adventure.
What are you doing, some of the roses whispered excitedly. Don’t lean forward so much, she’ll pick you.
I want her to pick me. I want to go, Upsy chirped.
Some of the roses were angry and thought Upsy was being silly. Others thought that this must be some strange thing that daisies do and just watched.
Ignoring them all, Upsy leaned as much as she could. And it worked. The little girl’s dark eyes fell right on her.
“This one. Only this one” She said gently.
“Are you sure you want just the daisy,” the older woman asked, “it doesn’t really match the table setting, and I’m not sure it will fill the vase…”
“Yes, I’m sure,” her voice stated resolutely as she clasped Upsy’s stem and tugged gently.
Then, Upsy felt the most curious thing happen.
Some of the roses who were angry with Upsy for wanting to leave clawed with their thorns in an attempt to keep her with them, Why aren’t you staying, they said, why don’t you like us?
But the ones who really loved her, the ones who wanted her to be happy more than anything, pushed her some more and they whispered, We never wondered about those things because maybe they are simply the things that daisies wonder about, but go and find your answers … we trust you… we love you…
Those words made Upsy feel brave, so she pushed away from the ground as hard as she could.
Upsy quickly told the angry roses that she did like them, more than that she loved them, but she wanted to know, she needed to know why the sky was blue, why the grass was green and what exactly was inside that house.
Some of the angry roses stopped pulling and said they understood, others just gave up and a stubborn few continued to pull.
But by that time, any pulling was simply too late, for even if Upsy had wanted to stay, she had already leaned forward towards the girl and the girl had already chosen her.
So, Upsy, clasped tightly in the hands of a pretty little dark eyed girl bounced away from her bed of roses towards new adventures and maybe even some answers. And while she felt a little sad for the home she left behind, she knew that this felt right, too.
She felt happy and proud.
Proud because when her chance came, she had leaned forward.
Eagerly.
60 Responses to Upsy Daisy in the Bed of Roses
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This is the most beautiful blog post I have read in some time. In fact, I’m thinking of printing it and putting it on my fridge.
Even though I have no idea what prompted you to write this or what it’s about, I just have to say that with each line I read, I saw myself in Upsy Daisy (with regard to a situation in my own life). Maybe that’s the beauty of this post…that we all can relate in one way or another.
@Hilly, I thought of this story line when I was about twleve and wrote a very preliminary version of it as a gift for my mom for Mother’s Day. I rewrote it last Sunday, and there were certain people who came to my mind as I rewrote it.
*You* know who you are. Ahem.
This is a story that I will be reading to BOTH of my children. Thanks you so much for writing this. Its absolutely beautiful.
@Becky, Thanks, Becky, I feel honored that you’d share this with your kids.
I loved it!
Reminded me a bit of The Ugly Duckling (who grew into the beautiful swan), except for the roses loving her so. Very sweet.
@B.E. Earl, Yeah, it is like the ugly duckling. Except it’s a daisy, and there’s roses, and they like her…
Bravo!! Bravo!! Fantastic writing!
@Samantha, Why, thank you. I don’t know that I’ve ever gotten a “Bravo” twice on this blog… I’m kind of puffing up with pride.
Hmm… maybe I should let Lil’ M read this — I think he can absolutely relate.
Beautiful. Thank you.
@Finn, You’re welcome. I hope L’il M enjoys it.
You simply must write a book…or just have this illustrated and bound for children. You are amazing Faiqa!!! This is just beautiful!!!
@Tami, Thank you, if I’m amazing it’s because I have supportive and wonderful friends like you who are never afraid to lift me up. You’re a gift, my dear.
I love Upsy.
@Sybil Law, Upsy loves you, too.
I love you! I have not cried over a blog post in a while, but this one made me happy. Daisies, you see, are my favorite flower. And in this land where everyone around me is so utterly beautiful, I imagine quite often that I am the daisy.
You are an amazing writer, and should be so proud to have this amazing gift.
@Becca, Daisies are my favorite flower, too! I think daisy lovers are a spacial breed of people. And, thank you for your compliments. They really do mean a lot to me.
I’m crying.
I’m sitting here in this hotel room, BAWLING.
Sobbing.
I don’t have to tell you why.
I love you.
@Miss Britt, I love you, too. So much. Of all the daisies I have ever known… few will ever be loved by me as much.
Beautiful. I can really imagine it illustrated and printed as a child’s book. Go for it!
@fogspinner, Thank you, I’d never really considered it until now.
lovely post!
@melanie, Glad that you liked it!
Oh, good, Lord woman. I’m sitting here crying my damned eyes out, picturing my daughter as Upsy. I don’t know whether to kiss you or… kiss you.
This was an amazing blog post, hon.
@Coal Miner’s Granddaughter, Aww, thanks, and I pick… kiss me.
I came here totally by accident.But thank God for that.
Oh.I so loved the post and the blog and the about me.Especially because I am slowly getting to relate to it all. Coz I am living it now. I am an Indian married to an Indian who was brought up in the middle east and is now slowly finding our way and life in US.
@jina, Wow!! How cool is that?! I hope you keep reading (and commenting) because I’d love to hear more about your perspective on, well, everything!
Absolutely beautiful. Did you make this up? If so, I agree with the others. You really need to try and get this published. It’s better than most childrens’ books that I have read in a long time.
@Robina, I *did* make it up, and wow, what a nice thing to say. Thanks!
Absolutely beautiful and beyond profound.
xoxo
@Sheila (Charm School Reject), Thank you, hon! And, look, my blog let you comment! Gotta take care of that…
Wow, that was excellent, Faiqa. I loved it.
@Avitable, Really? Wow, thanks. I think I can retire from blogging now. (And, no, that’s not jerky sarcasm… a serious compliment from you means quite a bit to me.)
Very cute and inspiring.
@Kimberly, Thanks… I was going for that.
I loved it. The artist in me says that was beautiful. The cynic in me says the Daisy unwittingly gave her life to become a centerpiece and never get any of her questions answered. Sometimes the cynic in me needs to be told to shut the hell up and quit ruining pretty stories.
@RebTurtle, Hmmm, tell the cynic in you that The House was actually a state of the art clean room where experiments were being conducted to create a being called The Eternal Daisy which would, in addition to living forever, be able to fly, time travel and shoot laser beams out of its petals. That should shut *him* up.
@Faiqa, Sweet! I’m sure SciFi Dad was ecstatic to hear that, because flying and lasers are right up our alley!
Faiqa this is incredible writing, and even more incredible friendship.
I am bawling too
@Nanna, Thank you… some friendships are more than just friendship, you know? They’re inspiration, growth, love, a feeling of kinship. I’m licky to have that, and I know in some way, I have you to thank for that.
@Nanna, Oh, jeeez, LUCKY not licky. Buwahahahahaha!
you are a talented and amazing woman. i absolutely LOVED this story. wonderful writing, my friend.
much love you!
(and yes, get an illustrator and get this published!)
@hello haha narf, Thank you, my dear. You know as soon as I hit publish on this post, one of the first thoughts that came to my mind was that I hoped you liked it. I feel like you have great taste in identifying the real meaning in simple pieces like this. I’m so glad you liked it.
@Faiqa,
i’m honored.
also? my favorite flower is the daisy.
now you have to tell us what n. thought of your story…
Great post, Faiqa, although it had me wondering what was going on until I read the first comment.
@SciFi Dad, Heh… I can see how that might happen.
You so talented…this is a beautiful post…why isn’t this stuff published in a ‘best selling’ book? why aren’t we millionaires yet? ARRGH…this frustrates me
@tariq, Let’s see, in your language (i.e., rampant unchecked capitalistic greed speak) I know that this is some sort of a compliment, so, you know, thanks.
This is wonderful and I agree that you should get it illustrated and published.
I am, however, left wondering what the moral is. While it’s nice to think of it as a tribute to self-actualization, I can’t help but see it as a warning against change for change’s sake.
@Ren, Yes.
that’s cute
@christie, thanks!
I’m holding my breath here. Seriously, tears. It’s so beautiful and gives me such hope right now when I need it most. Thank you Faiqa. So very much.
@Karen Sugarpants, You are very welcome, I sort of owe you… you’ve already done that to me a couple of times, now.
once again, you are a superb writer. well done.
@Slyde, Once again, thank you. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing that.
Beautiful story. (:
Loved it, and agree with the whole ambitious “get an artist” and “get yourself published” crowd.
I guess I’m one of those roses who loves you, FaiqUpsy.
Awww. Really sweet story. I like the idea of seeing what is out in the world!
[...] two of my favorite posts she has written: She Didn’t *Have* To Ask For Her Heart In A Box and Upsy Daisy In The Bed Of Roses. But don’t just read the ones I like…read them [...]
[...] are two of my favorite posts she has written: She Didn’t *Have* To Ask For Her Heart In A Box and Upsy Daisy In The Bed Of Roses. But don’t just read the ones I like…read them [...]