D is for dandelion…
When I was little, I used to pick dandelions for my mom. I’d bring fistfuls of already wilting weeds in, and she would put them in a little glass and say, “Thank you, Sweetheart!”
In elementary school, the boys would say “You had a baby and its head popped off!” Then they would pop the yellow tops off of the dandelions and throw them at us girls. We, however, would wait until the ones that managed to stay in the ground turned white and fluffy, and then we would blow the seeds into the wind and make silly wishes.
As I got older, I wove them together into crowns and sat in the grass talking to my friends about boys and future weddings. We were princesses flying high with hope in our own kingdoms.
Now, they are little more than an annoyance. A nuisance that takes over perfectly manicured lawns and brings ridicule from snooty neighbors. Along the way, the magic was lost. They stopped looking like a flowery gift, a childhood game, or a crown of promise, and they started looking more and more like weeds.
It is the way life goes. We start as babies filled with wonder, everything is new and beautiful. Then we grow up, dreams get crushed, plans get changed, and we lose sight of what’s important; we let go of excitement and wonder.
I try to remember when I’m walking through neighborhoods full of beautiful, green lawns, that there is a special world lurking somewhere in a stubborn yellow topped plant that somehow got missed in the culling. That world is full of beauty and youth, and it is something that I need to remember to cling to.
Photo by Heidi Jahn Photography