Nadia Plants a Sunflower Seed

One spring morning, Nadia's mother called her into the kitchen.

"Close your eyes," said Mother. "And hold out your hand."

Nadia closed her eyes tight. She held out her hand. She felt something tiny drop into her palm. It was so light, she could barely feel it at all.

"Now open," said Mother.

Nadia opened her eyes. In the middle of her hand sat one small seed. It was shaped like a teardrop. It had thin black and white stripes, like a tiny zebra.

"What is it?" asked Nadia.

"It is a sunflower seed," said Mother. "If you take good care of it, it will grow into a sunflower. And sunflowers grow very tall. This one might even grow taller than you."

Nadia looked at the seed. Then she looked at Mother. Then she looked at the seed again.

"Taller than me?" she said. "But Mama, it is smaller than my fingernail!"

Mother laughed. "Big things can come from small beginnings," she said. "But seeds need three things. They need soil. They need water. And they need sunshine. Can you give it those?"

"Yes!" said Nadia. "I can! I will!"

So Nadia and Mother found a little clay pot. They filled it with dark, soft soil. It smelled earthy and cool, like the garden after rain.

Nadia poked a hole in the soil with her finger. Just as deep as her first knuckle. She dropped the striped seed inside.

"Goodnight, little seed," she whispered. Then she covered it up, gently, gently, like tucking someone into bed.

She put the pot on the windowsill, where the sun shone in the most. Then she took her small watering can. It was blue, with a yellow sunflower painted on the side. She gave the soil a little drink. Sprinkle, sprinkle.

"There," said Nadia. "Now you can grow."

She sat and looked at the pot.

She waited.

Nothing happened.

"Mama," Nadia called. "When will it grow?"

"Not today," said Mother, smiling. "Seeds need time."

The next morning, Nadia jumped out of bed. She ran straight to the windowsill in her pajamas.

She looked at the pot.

Nothing. Just dirt.

The morning after that, she ran to the windowsill again.

She looked at the pot.

Nothing. Just dirt.

On the third morning, and the fourth, and the fifth, it was still just dirt. On the fifth morning, Nadia did not run. She walked slowly to the windowsill. She looked at the pot. Brown soil. Flat and quiet. Not even the tiniest speck of green.

Nadia's shoulders slumped. Her lip wobbled.

"It is not working," she said sadly. "Maybe I planted it wrong. Maybe I put it too deep. Maybe it does not like me."

Mother came and knelt beside her. She put an arm around Nadia's shoulders.

"You did not do anything wrong," said Mother. "Seeds grow in the dark first, where we cannot see. Right now, under the soil, your seed is waking up. It is stretching. It is getting ready."

Nadia sniffed. She looked at the pot.

"Every day?" she said.

"Every day," said Mother. "Just keep caring for it."

So that is what Nadia did.

Every morning, she gave the pot a little water. Sprinkle, sprinkle. Not too much. Not too little.

Every afternoon, she turned the pot a little bit, so every side could feel the sunshine.

And every evening, she sang the seed a little song. She made it up herself.

"Little seed, little seed,
Sun and water, that's what you need.
Grow up slow, grow up tall,
I will love you most of all."

Sprinkle, turn, sing. Sprinkle, turn, sing.

On the sixth day, there was still nothing. Nadia gave it water anyway.

On the seventh day, there was still nothing. Nadia sang to it anyway.

On the eighth morning, Nadia came to the windowsill. She was already holding her watering can. She was already humming her song.

And then she stopped.

She leaned in close. Closer. Her nose almost touched the soil.

There, right in the middle of the pot, something was poking out. Something tiny. Something green.

It was a sprout! A little green stem, curved like a hook. And at the top, two small round leaves, curled together like two tiny hands holding on.

"MAMA!" Nadia shouted. "MAMA! COME QUICK!"

Mother came running from the kitchen.

"It is growing!" Nadia cried. She was jumping up and down. "It is really, really growing! It was waking up the whole time!"

Mother hugged her tight. "You kept caring for it," she said. "Even when you could not see anything."

After that, the sprout grew and grew.

Every day, it was a little bit taller. The two little leaves opened up wide. Then two more leaves came. Then two more. The stem grew thick and strong.

Nadia kept watering. She kept turning. She kept singing.

Soon the sprout was too big for its little clay pot. Its leaves were bumping into the window.

"It needs more room," said Mother. "Let us plant it in the garden."

So Nadia and Mother carried the pot outside. They dug a hole in the garden, near the white fence, where the sun shone all day long. Very carefully, they moved the little plant into its new home.

All summer, the sunflower grew.

It grew past Nadia's knees. She measured it with her hand.

It grew past Nadia's tummy. She measured it again.

It grew past Nadia's shoulders. She had to look up a little now.

And then, one day, it grew right past the top of her head!

At the very top of the tall green stem was a big, round, fat bud. It was wrapped up tight, like a present.

Then one sunny morning, she ran outside in her purple boots, and there it was.

The bud had opened. A huge, golden flower smiled down at her. It had dozens of bright yellow petals, like rays of sunshine. In the middle was a big brown circle, as big as a dinner plate.

Nadia stood beneath it, looking up and up and up. She laughed and laughed.

"You did it!" she told the sunflower. "You grew taller than me!"

And in the autumn, when the petals began to fall, the big brown center was full of seeds. Hundreds and hundreds of little striped seeds, just like the very first one.

Nadia gathered them carefully. She put them into a glass jar.

She held up the jar and smiled.

"Now," she said, "I have enough to share."