Flowers in her hair

Many people have described me as being a bit like a hippy; I wear long skirts, have long hair, I’m a vegetarian, and I care very much for the environment. But I never wear flowers in my hair. I never pick flowers. I don’t mind receiving flowers, but I can’t pick them myself. I know why.
When I was little, maybe 7 years old, there was a place about 5 houses down the road, and out the front of it, was a great big hibiscus bush, with pink flowers. Every time I went past it, I would stop for ages and just look at the perfect blooms. I was too frightened to touch them; I knew they didn’t belong to me. But I used to imagine what it felt like, and how pretty it would look in my hair.
One day, I was standing near the bush, and in a fit of bravery, leaned over to smell it. It wasn’t quite what I expected, it had very little scent, but the stalk in the middle brushed my nose and left a light dust on it. As I stepped back, startled and trying not to sneeze, the person who lived there came out.
I have no idea what they looked like, it’s a complete blank to me. But I remember they picked one of those flowers- the one I thought was the most perfect, and she gave it to me. I excitedly thanked her and ran home to show mum.
I spent so long just looking at it, stroking one of the petals, completely fascinated by the texture of it. I remember how delicate the stalk in the middle was, with small beads of pollen.
It was one of those moments where time stood still, for someone so young, I spent ages just looking at it, and touching it. But what I remember most was how quickly it wilted. The stalk snapped, and the petals took on that slightly oily texture they get when damaged. The edges turned brown. The pink faded.
It was devastating to me, this beautiful flower, that took month to grow, could wilt in mere minutes. It seemed so unfair. It seems such a trivial thing, but as a child, it was an awful thing to realise, that everything fades.
Since that day, as I walked past the bush, I saw all the other flowers, still in bloom. They were still beautiful, untouched by time. Even now, I will never pick a flower. To me, I can’t stand the idea of cutting its life short, such a beautiful and delicate thing. But maybe one day, I’ll get a fake hibiscus flower clip and wear it in my hair.