For that is what they are to him: flowers.
He hurries to bring me one, proud to be giving Mommy the flower.
And I treasure it.
As he races to collect more, I think about how fast this time will pass.
Soon the yellow flower heads will turn white, and then they will disappear. After a while there will only be the greens left.
And, all too soon, my son will stop bringing Mommy dandelions. He will see them as weeds, or maybe he won’t even notice them at all.
And so I treasure each and every yellow flower, carefully placing them in water, trying to make them last as long as I can. And they are more beautiful to me than any vase of roses ever was.
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