by: Terri Neal
A little hand reaching up with flowers. The other hand tugging at my skirt as I stand at the sink finishing the last of the dishes. "This is for you mommy." I turn to see the proud and precious smile on a dirt laden face. Oh, that little face. Those cute rosy cheeks and those eyes so full of love for me. I take the flower and put it in a cup of water. Soon the petals will wilt but like a seed, the memory of this little encounter was planted deeply in my heart where it will bloom forever.
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