May is the month my red poppies begin to bloom. First, one bright flower will stretch up to the sky, splashing its color against the greens of the spring garden. It may take days or even weeks for the others to bloom. They sit, closed up in their little pods, patiently waiting for just the right moment. I fear that the first flower will fade before the others have had a chance to join her in this color dance. But I have seen this before. Last year and the years before that, back to the first year these flowers showed up, unannounced, in a long neglected patch of garden. So I rest in that memory, that experience. I don’t worry or grow anxious. And one morning I will look out the window and there will be two, or three, or even four. Red flowers, with petals as thin as paper, dancing together in the garden. If only we could remember that children can be like these flowers. They will bloom. There is always one who runs ahead of the others and often one who takes a bit longer. But they will bloom, each in his or her own time.