Dandelions
There's something transcendent about going back to your birthplace.
An unending torrent of flashbacks instantly seized hold of my consciousness, so I guess it's a good thing that I'm a naturally nostalgic person. I was wearing a turquoise dress and crawling all over the playground equipment outside the hospital where I was born, still on the tail end of a sentimental high from standing in the driveway of my old house. I felt a sense of spirituality and stood even more firmly in my belief that anything could happen.
Anyway, you know how dandelions poof out in the summer and you're supposed to blow all the seeds off and make a wish? I've tried that a few times but it never really goes the way it's supposed to. I either can't get all the seeds off in one go or they all fly backwards and smack me in the face or something. I was walking back up to the car, satisfied with my fill of memories, when I saw a nice-looking dandelion under my feet. Naturally, I plucked it up and blew on it. Maybe it was because it happened at such a special place or maybe I was biased with overflowing sentimentality, but all those seeds flew off at the same time and floated gracefully into the sky above me. It was flawless. I couldn't stop smiling.
I'm not supposed to say what I wished for, but I will say that it wasn't granted so much as I realized I'd had it the whole time. Life has a funny way of throwing all your plans out the window and taking its own route. You can't do much but cling to the door handle and try your best to take in the view. Thankfully, whatever back way I've been swept onto is lined with well-executed dandelion wishes.
I see them all the time now: in Target house decorations and art projects and growing on the side of the freeway. It's weird how something that used to be so subtle can become something that makes my whole day every time I see it. I just have to ignore the strange looks people give me when I tell them one of my favorite flowers is the weed they spend hours trying to remove from their yards.
An unending torrent of flashbacks instantly seized hold of my consciousness, so I guess it's a good thing that I'm a naturally nostalgic person. I was wearing a turquoise dress and crawling all over the playground equipment outside the hospital where I was born, still on the tail end of a sentimental high from standing in the driveway of my old house. I felt a sense of spirituality and stood even more firmly in my belief that anything could happen.
Anyway, you know how dandelions poof out in the summer and you're supposed to blow all the seeds off and make a wish? I've tried that a few times but it never really goes the way it's supposed to. I either can't get all the seeds off in one go or they all fly backwards and smack me in the face or something. I was walking back up to the car, satisfied with my fill of memories, when I saw a nice-looking dandelion under my feet. Naturally, I plucked it up and blew on it. Maybe it was because it happened at such a special place or maybe I was biased with overflowing sentimentality, but all those seeds flew off at the same time and floated gracefully into the sky above me. It was flawless. I couldn't stop smiling.
I'm not supposed to say what I wished for, but I will say that it wasn't granted so much as I realized I'd had it the whole time. Life has a funny way of throwing all your plans out the window and taking its own route. You can't do much but cling to the door handle and try your best to take in the view. Thankfully, whatever back way I've been swept onto is lined with well-executed dandelion wishes.
I see them all the time now: in Target house decorations and art projects and growing on the side of the freeway. It's weird how something that used to be so subtle can become something that makes my whole day every time I see it. I just have to ignore the strange looks people give me when I tell them one of my favorite flowers is the weed they spend hours trying to remove from their yards.