by L.J. Bosela
Dandelions are a generally misunderstood flower. I think that is why I like them. Amah told me once, when I was just a child, that I was like a dandelion- brightly golden, in laughter and in countenance, set amidst a dark and solemn family, and like a dandelion, I was indefatigable in my tenacity at life.
She didn’t mean it as a compliment. I knew that.
But I took it as one.
Growing up, children all love dandelions. It is only when your soul grows old and tired – tired of the drudgery we humans are so apt to turn our life into – that you see dandelions as a weed, to be eradicated, to be hated. When your soul is old, you forget the wisdom that every child knows.
Children know that dandelions hold a thousand, thousand wishes.
That’s how I feel like a dandelion – I have a thousand, thousand wishes, and they are all going to one day blow far away on a wayward breeze and fall forgotten somewhere. I must believe, I must hope, that at least one of those wishes will cause another dandelion to grow.
But I have just this one wish to tell you now. I wish that when I die, one person in all this world will remember me with kindness.
… now comes the wind.
Remember me, and carry my wishes to all the world, all ten thousand fold.
About the Author: L.J. Bosela was raised in Sterling on the Kenai Peninsula. She writes mostly fiction, with a special interest in fantasy in the style of Tolkien, Lewis, and McKillip. Outside of writing, she also enjoys reading, drinking tea, listening to classical and folk music, and spending time walking through woods, bookstores, and antique shops.