Smell the Flowers

“Look, Mama! A flow-er.” The little girl points to the dandelion growing in a sea of green grass.

“Phhhhphp. That’s not a flower, that’s a weed.”

“But it has little petals and everything!” she squeals. “A flow-er in the fall.”

“A weed, that’s all it is.”

Her blond curly hair bounces as a frown appears. She mutters, “It is a flow-er.” She swears she sees the dandelion stand just a little taller. “Can you understand me?” She watches intensely. She sees it sway and takes that as a yes. She laughs. “Of course you can, little flow-er.”

She stands up straight. “Want to see me dance?” She watches the dandelion. At the slightest movement, she nods. “Of course, I can sing too. What song shall I sing?”

“Oh yes, I love that one. Let’s see… How does it start? Oh, yeah. Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day…” She drifts off, looking up at the clouds. “No, it isn’t going to rain today.” She smiles.

“Come on, darling.” Her mother’s voice soothes her giddiness.

“Wait! I must bring my new flow-er friend.” She stoops low and reaches to pick the dandelion. It wilts as her hand reaches for her stem. She notices and stops. “Oh, you don’t want to come with me? You need the fresh rain?” She frowns. “I understand, little flow-er. I will come and see you another day, okay?”

As they walk away, she looks back and sees the little dandelion, reaching for the sky, spreading its petals out, happy and proud to be called a flower.

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