A Circle Story About Comfort, Permission, and the Color That Still Holds Me
- Jan 19, 2019
- 2 min read
Updated: Feb 5

Most stories have a clear beginning, middle, and end.This one is more of a circle.
It’s about my dad.
Big as life, he was known for his monumental mustache. It curled splendidly, running clear across his face from the middle of one cheek to the other, with corkscrew twists at each end.
Sporting such a grand mustache may explain his favorite bloom: sunflowers. Big. Bold. Impossible to ignore.
The color yellow inspired me too.
Those brilliant sunny petals.
The deep brown centers.
The contrast of bright green stalks rising up among oversized leaves.
When I painted sunflowers, my brushes hummed.
But the flowers themselves weren’t the whole story.
Dad especially loved the oversized sunflower seeds — the kind that brought birds flocking in. They gathered, ate, scattered, and unknowingly planted the next season’s blooms.

It was the circle of life, playing out quietly in his backyard.
It took me years to understand what my dad was really drawn to.Not just the color. Not just the flower.
But the way something simple could feed others, return again, and keep going long after the moment passed.
That kind of abundance didn’t announce itself.It just continued.
Sunflowers hold memories for me.Not because of how they look — but because of what they allowed.
Joy without explanation.
Comfort without urgency.
Meaning without effort.
As adults, we often look for strength in big gestures and bold decisions.
But sometimes the most sustaining kind of strength comes from what we were quietly given — a color, a ritual, a way of seeing the long view.
We all carry small inheritances like this.
Things that steady us when life feels uncertain.
Things that ask nothing in return.
The permission to let something simple comfort us.
The permission to keep what works.
The permission to begin again, gently.
If you pause for a moment, you may find one of yours too.
A color you’re drawn to.
A memory that still softens your shoulders.
A small, familiar comfort that reminds you you’re allowed to keep going — just as you are.
That’s where the shift begins.








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