He said, “Mama look.” I looked up and caught my breath. There was a multitude of angel wings completely surrounding our car. In the midst of the swirl, I saw the two of them racing across the yard plucking every spent dandelion. They would hold them up to the sky, close their eyes and blow. They would watch as the wings took flight and danced in the wind before vanishing out of sight. They were convinced the angels above would answer their wishes. I could hear her asking me why dandelions were considered a weed when they brought wishes to angels?
To her a flower was a flower. She would pick the first “crocus pocus” and display it in the kitchen window. She’d cradle the peonies so ants could march across her hands. For her, each flower had its own reason for why it was special. For me- it was her bundles that I loved most. She would scavenge the yard picking all the colors of the rainbow- whatever was blooming was fair game- tulips, daffodils, iris, and even dandelions- they would all be precious additions to her bundle. When she was finished collecting, she would squeeze the stems in her little hand and bring them to me. She wanted me to have flowers in my room the same way violets from Dada stayed in hers.
When we started our quest to find where her sanctuary would live, I was drawn to the places where I could see for miles- I desperately wanted to see what Catherine sees. And now what I really see is that it is not what is in the vast expanse. It is what is right in front of me.
We walked the path of the property and there they were: purple violets. The same ones that welcomed her home when she was born, the same ones she would squeeze in my bouquets, and the same ones her Dada would give her for beside her bed. It was the purple violets that told me this is exactly where Catherine wants us. As we walk the paths that wind through the Sanctuary, I find the perfect dandelion, hold it into the wind, watch it’s angel’s wings dance in the wind, and know that it will bring my kiss to her.