For as long as I can remember Flynn has loved dandelions. Every spring, she waits for the first pop of that sporadic yellow pattern to appear throughout our yard. And when it happens, she is happy. These years pass quickly, as all us mothers know. Yet some things stay the same. One day a few weeks ago, Flynn took Mocha outside. When she came back in, she had the most beautiful gift for me clutched in her ten-year-old hand. A simple yellow flower. The first of the year. And yes, we call them flowers, not weeds. It is all in how you see things, my friends. And we choose to see hope.
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