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Destroying the DandelionJune 17, 2015

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On Tuesday evenings Baba comes. It’s become a mini ritual for us, she will arrive mid afternoon or later and we’ll leave the house on our weekly grocery trip. Clutching jute bags, with the sunset behind us, we walk the familiar path and savour an hour or two of parental freedom. Often we dally as we marvel at the moon or the hues of the sky, we saw a couple of girls yesterday photographing the sunset and laughed that we must look like them, appearing like tourists.

On our way home we saw a family walk towards us, a small girl stooped and grabbed a dandelion from the verge and after a quick examining glance blew upon it’s gentle seeds. My mind filled with childlike joy at the action so many times repeated, pretence at telling the time, expectation of a flurry of white momentarily filling the air… Nothing happened. The white head remained perfectly intact, soft and delicate as the moment she had first grabbed it. I waited for her to try again, increase the strength of airflow, but she didn’t. Reaching up with her other hand she cleaned the steam in one quick grab.

There was a sadness in that second for the loss or wonder. How fickle the human race can be, temperamental and impatient. We can fail to watch the birds or marvel at the breeze, being so easily distracted with our own making and timetable that we ignore the beauty before us. Perhaps we do indeed look like tourists on our walks, I’m often mistaken for one… but perhaps that’s a blessing I don’t want to lose. I want to pick a dandelion and appreciate it’s beauty, giggle as it sheds it’s seeds, marvel at it’s construction and not become jaded to the beauty God left waiting for us to discover.

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