Now I’m overwhelmed by the clapping

and the whistling and the cheering.

One man is shouting “Bravo!”

and I have a feeling it’s my dad,

because that is the kind of

corny,

embarrassing,

but wonderful

thing he would do.

At the final curtain call for the whole play,

the same person who sounds just like my dad

is shouting “Bravo!” again.

In the Lobby Afterward

I find my parents,

who sweep me into a hug.

My dad is holding a huge bouquet of yellow roses,

in honor of my being a yellow rose,

and he’s teary-eyed as he gives them to me,

as I knew he would be.

“I’m so proud of you, Betsy!”

my mother says.

She sounds like she means it.

And guess what?

She’s teary-eyed, too.

Lizard is there with her mom.

She whispers to me,

“Lily, can you talk?

It doesn’t sound like you can talk.

Um—Lily—Lily, are you there?”

I burst out laughing,

so I guess the meanness of the mean flowers

is rubbing off on me.

Well, just a little bit.

Mr. Delgado comes up to my dad

and thanks him for his wonderful help

building the backdrop for the flower garden,

with this huge amazing tree

with sheltering, spreading, leafy branches.

Then Lizard goes off to join the crowd around Zari.

The two of them do some stuff together now,

the way that Zoey and I do.

Lizard eats lunch at the Spanish-speaking table

once in a while, too,

because she is learning Spanish!

My mother helped her mother

find a terrific after-school class.

I’m not taking it, though,

because I’m taking voice lessons instead.

The best thing?

We get to do another performance

of the play tomorrow night!

My mother and father and Lizard

are going to come to see me again!

Maybe my mother wouldn’t call this blooming

(though she had those tears in her eyes as she hugged me).

But I do.

It’s a kind of blooming

to lose so much,

even to lose the people you love,

and then find a way to get them back,

different from and better than

how it was before.

It’s a kind of blooming

to find the words to say

what you need to say,

and to say them to the people

who need to hear them.

I finally said the words that were in my heart

to my mother and my best friend.

And I’m the one who gets to decide

what blooming means to me.

Author’s Note