Dandelions

 

Photo by Mike C. S

She picked the dandelions and made a bouquet because they were hearty and beautiful, just as she was.

“Silly woman.  Those are weeds.”

“In the eye of the beholder.”

“Everyone knows they are weeds.”

“It does not matter to everyone.  Only to some.”

“They make me sneeze.”

“Deal with it.”

The discord, deeper than a shallow grave, sprouted dandelions.  She picked them because she chose to embrace them.  No corpse would generate “weeds” that she could not harvest and make something beautiful.

“Nonsense as usual,” he said.

“Beautiful nonsense. Authentic, beautiful nonsense that mystifies and makes perfect sense to me.”

(Originally published 2021/01/06 at 10:47 am)