I use to gather bundles of the little yellow flowers and run inside, excitedly handing them to my mother.
I use to gather dandelions at recess, this time popping off the yellow heads and splitting open the stems. I’d lay the stems flat before rolling it up into a spiral shape— happily called “dandelion tape” by my friends and I.
I use to swat at fluffy dandelion seeds. I’d scoop low to grab the stems and then toss and blow the fluff into the air.
Now I cringe when I see a yard covered in yellow or fluffy seeding shapes. I crouch down and examine the flower I destroy every week with a mower. I pluck a seeding dandelion and raise the plant towards the sky. Little fluffs escape into the wind. I smile and for a moment, just a moment, I’m a little girl again picking dandelions.