Every year it was the same. She'd round the corner at the nursery, thinking only of mulch or tomato plants, and there they'd be; a corp de ballet of flowers, wearing pink and purple tutus; pirouetting down the sides of their pots, their fluffy little skirts twirling in the breeze. One look, and she was ten years old, helping her grandmother with the shopping. She could not resist touching them, running one finger, very gently, down the side of a blossom.
"Will you get one, Grammy?"
"They look like little ballerinas, don't they? Oh, my, yes, I think we must have one for the patio."
Grammy's purse did not have so very many coins in it, but she always found a few for the flowers she loved.
© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Sterling silver, tourmaline. Hand fabricated.
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