Last night I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw that I still had dandelion seeds littering my hair from rolling in the grass with my neighbour's 3-year-old twins two hours earlier. We spent a few minutes just giggling and rolling and blowing dandelion seeds all over the place.
I never realized how much I love dandelions until just this year, what with Molly's utter fascination with them. "Blowflowers" have such beauty...they seem so delicate and fragile, but it is in that fragility that their strength lies...their ability to float off to far off places on the gentlest of breezes.
I have been noticing dandelion seeds everywhere lately...clinging to my children's clothing, dancing along a kitchen chair from the breeze of my open door. I even spied one gracefully soaring through an open bus window today. Every time I see one, I smile to myself, happy that I am able to see the beauty and the metaphor in it. I always stop and smile, even if just to myself, and remind myself that this moment is an utter gift.
I'll never look at a field of dandelions the same way again.
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