I’ve been watching it build a bloom for weeks.  The orchid on my shelf beside my shower.  I’ve come daily to warm cascading water, where I shampoo and follow the evolution of round, white petals, swelling with promise.

And then one day, surprise!  A delicate flower has unfurled, completely open to the world in full potential.  Beautiful in its delicacy.  Testament to certain destinies fulfilled.

For days after the opening, I’ll gaze to its arching profile, as it faces open air at the end of a long, thin stem.  I’ve been smiling quietly to myself in a love for flowers.  Intricate blossoms gracing days of rare occasion.

I thought I’d been looking.  I really did.  But yesterday evening I realized, I’ve only been partly seeing.  My hand reached out to the orchid pot, giving no more than a quarter turn.  Suddenly a new angle revealed.  The flower faced me fully, revealing even more beauty than I had known was traced inside its feathered petals.

Ahh.  How just the slightest tilt can show a whole new world.