All the boys were playing on the playground or passing the football. Their voices and cheers dimmed into the background as a magical silence came over me. The sunlight glistened on her hair as she danced around in the bright green grasses ~ my girl picking flowers.
Wild flowers. Nothing special, just some small white blooms that sprinkled the meadow at the park. In her tiny fingers, though, they were treated with reverence. She delicately gathered them up and carried them to where I watched. Carefully she presented the entire bouquet to me saying, "Don't let them fall, Mommy. 'Cuz the wind will hurt them." As we drove home, she guarded them from being damaged by her rather rough brothers. Immediately upon our arrival, the blooms found their way into the glass pitcher and some much needed water. Now they stand regally at my kitchen sink reminding me of how quickly these carefree days of childhood are passing.
Darling little girls love flowers, even common, everyday flowers.
I just love the beautiful picture you paint in retelling this story. In retelling it, you remind me how precious the moments are.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Katie. I also see how much more delicate my little Kate handles things.
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