"He loves me, he loves me not"
Did you ever play that game as a child?
You'd pluck all the petals off a sad daisy, hoping to end on "loves me"
These days, I appreciate flowers with their petals fully intact. I prefer to see how much love I can put out into the world rather than destroying a flower to find out if I am loved (I know I am)
But sometimes, it's nice to have a reminder.
The word Love. In the handwriting of My grandparents. My parents. My husband.
This flower promises- the last petal is always love.
My grandparents house was right across the street from a park. When I’d visit in the summer, my grandmother would lead me over, my hand in hers, so we could swing and slide and teeter totter.
The park had a softball field where I would search for rogue softballs. Every time I found one it was like finding buried treasure, and I was convinced some famous baseball player (at 5 or 6 i didn’t grasp the difference) had hit a home run.
And my grandmother would always sing “Daisy Daisy, give me your answer do. I’m half crazy all for the love of you. It won’t be a stylish marriage, I can’t afford a carriage. But you’ll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two. Take me out to the ball game take me out to with the crowd! Buy me some some peanuts and cracker jacks… “. She’d seamlessly transition from one tune to the next, and for a long time I thought it was one long song... When I was about 14 or 15, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. By the time I was 18, she no longer recognized me.
Seeing her signature again on these petals- makes me remember what it was like to hold her hand, skip to the park, and listen to her sing.
Jewelry is powerful.