Do you remember those flowers you used to pick, the ones by the stream? Every week, you came in with a bundle of those flowers for me, clenched in your dirty little fist. I always put them by the window so that I could see them while I was working at the wheel, and you always brought fresh ones when they began to wilt.
I found some of them at the house Belle and I moved into this week. There’s a great thatch of them just outside the kitchen window.