milkweed

prompt: milkweed

The sun lights on her strawberry blonde hair as she plunks herself unceremoniously amidst a clump of dandelions. Her chubby fist closes around one stem, pulling mightily.  Her blue- brown eyes sparkle in triumph when she finally wrestles one free.

"Look mama. Flower!" she cries, with the delight only a small child could have over such a noxious weed.
The smell of grass permeates her clothes and she carries the smell of the sun and wind in her hair.
At all once she wraps her arms around my neck to pull me into a voracious hug.

I close my eyes trying not to think of anything else as I soak in the warmth and smell of her.
When I open my eyes again a wisp of milkweed seed tumbles gently through the air nearby. I watch in awe as the breeze pushes it closer and closer, until finally it catches on one of her curls.

I pluck it gently and place it into my open palm.
It is the wrong season for milkweed which makes me wonder how long and far it had travelled on the breeze.
Delicate yet resilient.

"Make a wish." I whisper.

I watch as her eyes squeeze shut in earnest, her long blonde lashes fanning her face.

What is is wishing for  I wonder as I feel the silk and seed blow away.

Where will the wind take this fragile, tenacious gift now.