Day of the Dandelion

A little girl, running through a field, unchaperoned and free, felt the soft sun on her face, and the fresh air catch her up in a swirl. Her loose smock dress with cabbage roses and lilies, and wild unkempt hair flew around her, joining with the nature around her. Wildflowers and weeds around her, she tiptoed and pirouetted through the open field. For a short cage of time, she was allowed to play outside, barefoot, feeling the dirt and the weeds under her toes. She spun around and then fell, tired and dizzy from her personal merry-go-round. It was such a change from school and being in the house doing homework the rest of the time.

On the ground, she lay still, listening to the life around her head. Bumble bees bumped through the black-eyed Susans and daisies. Cicadas serenaded in the distant forest lining the field. Tiny grasshoppers jumped over her. Crows crossed over head, she watched them making lazy circles in the sky, reaching no apparent destination. The freedom given to the nature around her that day made her wish she were more like them.

She turned her head to one side, and she spied an old feathery dandelion. She had heard that if she blew all the seeds off a dandelion in full bloom, she’d get her wish. She couldn’t leave any left. She reached over with her opposite arm and plucked the stem. She looked up at the blue sky and watched the outline of the dandelion against the azure of the outward sky. She gathered a giant breath and blew the seeds off the dandelion. All but one.

She tossed it aside, knowing her wish couldn’t come true now. There were so many wishes to choose from, she felt she deserved this small one. Her parents were splitting up, and there were many fights in the house and throughout the family. Children became pawns. All she wanted was happiness, the kind her friends at school had. Lunches with encouraging notes, a Christmas tree, a pet, something that would take her mind off the troubles that such a young girl shouldn’t have.

Each day she woke up, dread for the upcoming daylight hours was normal. From the fighting at home, to the arguments at school, to detentions given by the teacher for messy handwriting, she just wanted to be the happy little girl she read about and watched in movies. Instead, each day ended bitter and tense.

A school year flew by, and she stayed with her mother who lived by the field she loved. She traipsed about the field on the first day of summer break, and her height finally surpassed the tops of the flowers. With arms outstretched, she ran through the field, keeping up with mockingbirds and egrets, wild abandonment in her eyes as she pretended to fly along with them, free and of her own free will. She found another proud dandelion, full of seeds representing all the aspects of her life. She pulled in another deep breath and blew them off, all except one.

This past school year was difficult. Many of friends moved away, and she had started at another school. She didn’t know anyone there, and many made fun of her old-fashioned dresses and braided hair. At lunch she sat alone, watching others sitting together in groups, laughing, talking, singing songs, and sharing secrets. She longed to be part of this group, or any group, where just being with others was another way to get from morning to the end of day. This loneliness dug into her skin and made her feel like she had visible sores. An outcast, and only 12.

She looked forward to her summer after middle school; she looked at it as another transition, one that was important to her. Back in the middle of the field, she turned around in circles, eyes up toward the school, ever searching for the one thing that eluded her. She found her warblers, nuthatches in the trees, cardinals, all cheering her on. The blue wildflowers and red honey snow flowers were in abundance all around her, the breeze warm but constant all around her. This was her last her summer in the field as she would be living with her father the following year in the city, covered with concrete and unnatural things. Nothing would be familiar to her anymore, and she wouldn’t see her mother much anymore. She would miss running about her field in the summer terribly, the field that kept her going with the promise of love and happiness.

She explored the field for hours and found a small stream near one edge of the field. The rocks around it were smooth, and she threw a few of them across the stream, watching them skip toward their destination. The trees she climbed on seemed larger than the previous years, and she didn’t know if she could reach the low hanging branches anymore. She followed the stream as far as it would go, past the field and into the beginning of the forest’s edge. She spotted in the distance a proud little dandelion, the last one of the season. She knew this one would grant her wish. She made her way to the little flower, aged to its last stage, and gently took it in her hands. She closed her eyes and made a wish; with one big breath she blew all the seeds off, all but one.

At once, the stream turned black, the birds disappeared, the grass dried up, and the wildflowers died. All sound became silent, all colors became dark, and the girl crumpled to the earth, still clutching the little dandelion. She kept her secrets; her first wish was for happiness, her second wish was for love, but in her haste to make her desperate last wish happen after many years without the love or happiness she yearned for, she wished for life. She didn’t realize that her life was part of all life.