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Dandelion Ghosts
Dandelion Ghosts.jpg

 There was nothing beautiful about dandelions. They stained my skin yellow and had a musty, cheesy smell so opposite the soft scent of other flowers. The dandelion plant consumed my early Saturday mornings then: throughout the summer that I turned nine and my chore list expanded to include weeding the yard. The sun drenched my shoulders those early mornings as I muttered to myself about the injustice of my workload as it compared to my sister’s.

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