Sarah Khamis

Daffodils, cedars, and chamomiles are all connected through a shared language. 

Floriography, the language of flowers, has intrigued me for a while. I first learned about the language in middle school while I was working on my 8th-grade capstone: writing a book. The task appeared daunting, but nevertheless I dived straight into it. After months of work, I thought I had created the next Harry Potter. However, as the words flowed, there was nothing to weave my story together. It was on Pinterest when I found an article about the different meanings of roses depending on their color. With that, I began my deep dive into the language of flowers. 

Step one: Find a flower field.

At the time, I crafted my story where each plant that the characters saw foreshadowed what was going to happen next. And before I knew it, I would be walking into grocery stores and wondering what the different colors of roses and chrysanthemums I passed meant. When I went to the park, I would find flowers and discover their hidden language. It was like the flowers were whispering their  secrets to me so only I could communicate with them. 

Step two: Pick the flowers with the longest stems.

Yellow daffodils represent resilience and hope. In high school, I was introduced to a contest called Poetry Out Loud. Prior to this, the thought of performing my poetry was petrifying. However, performing on stage, something sparked, and a flame lit that has not been extinguished since. My voice is stronger thanks to my love for writing poetry and my longing to express it. Daffodils symbolize my drive for my writing. Despite my anxiety about performances, my resilience towards wanting to share my work with others grows stronger, and I find encouragement from the amazing community of people I meet.

Step three: Take the first flower and wrap one stem over the other flower’s stem.

Cedar, the flower of strength, represents the lessons I've learned from my dad. Coming from Egypt, my dad was determined to become an American and to pursue his profession. “Practice makes you good, not perfect,” my dad would always say; these words stuck with me. I was always dedicated to art, but my art journey truly developed during the pandemic when I watched hours of videos, taking inspiration from other artists. I was able to keep going because of my strength and even during times where I stepped back from my art, I continued to come back with more dedication than before. As a result, my drawings and photography were displayed at my school's art gallery. 

Step four: Place another flower at the end of the first stem and wrap the new flower’s stem on the previous stem.

Chamomiles stand for the phrase “energy in adversity,” representing my perseverance during challenges. In 11th grade, I was given the position of Head of Costumes in theater, even though my only experience was handling someone's makeup during the last production. Despite this challenge, I organized which actors should get what costumes and when they should get them. I learned how to sew pieces of costumes with a fast-approaching deadline. Through leading this team, I was able to understand how to better delegate tasks, deal with fast-approaching deadlines and encourage my peers during times of stress. My time in theater has prepared me for future leadership roles and encouraged me to learn how to crochet my own clothes and accessories. For me, chamomiles portray my innate ability to withstand difficulties.

Step five: Repeat the process until the flowers create a crown that can wrap around your head.

Flowers are delicate; they don’t last forever. However, by pressing them, we find that their memories can last longer. By understanding their language, each flower I've learned about has taught me new lessons that have become intertwined in my life.

Step six: tie the ends of both flower stems together to hold. 

One day, I hope to finish my flower crown and share its lessons with others.