One tiny sunflower seed snuggles down into the soft, dark soil. A little pat on top, a splash of water for a blanket. "Grow big soon, little seed!"
Splish, splash — drink up, little seed! Miya checks every single day, nose right over the pot. Today... nothing. Yesterday... nothing. Just quiet brown soil, keeping its secret.
Drip, drop — rain today. Raindrops dance on the umbrella, plip, plip, plip. The soil stays quiet and still. "Still nothing? Maybe the seed likes rainy lullabies."
Miya's fingers get so itchy: "Just one tiny peek underground?" One hand sneaks toward the soil — and the other hand catches it. No, no! The seed is still sleeping, and sleeping seeds mustn't be woken.
Waiting turns into a game! Miya plants a little marker stick right at the edge of the pot. "Tell me the moment you grow, okay? Even one tiny bit counts!"
When the breeze comes by, Miya sits cross-legged and sings to the seed, waving both hands like a little conductor: "La la la, take your time, bloom whenever you're ready."
In the golden evening, Miya draws a picture of the little pot — with a big imaginary flower on top. "When you bloom for real, we'll see if my drawing got it right."
Then one morning — oh! A little green head pops right out of the soil, with two round baby leaves stretching wide. "Hello, little sprout! You woke up at last!"
The sprout grows and grows — more leaves every day, taller than the marker stick already! And Miya still comes every morning with the little watering can. Splish, splash, good morning!
It bloomed! A great golden sunflower, taller than Miya, nodding a big hello in the sunshine. A butterfly circles it once, twice. So this is what slow, patient waiting can grow!