I have fond memories of picking dandelions and daisies in some vast country field during the warm spring days of my childhood. Skipping through the knee high grass, searching for the perfect flower, I mastered leaping, hopping, and jumping over patches of white and yellow blooms until I found that special flower. It had to be brilliant and perfectly round, like the sun, since this was to be my center piece for a string of daisies headdress. After the crown was made and placed on my head, I would slowly sift through the area looking for the best parachute ball to serve as my sceptre. When found, my ceremony could begin.
A procession of imaginary friends would lead me down a secluded path to my throne which was fashioned as a fallen tree or stump or rustic boulder draped in vines and moss. Once seated, I was entertained by butterflies and bumblebees whirling about the dancing leaves with music played by birds and breeze singing through the budding trees. Sooner than later, I would leave my throne, join in with the fun and twirl myself around my queendom, until I'd fall flat in a drunken stupor. While on my back, clouds swirling above me, I would raise my sceptre to my lips and blow magic wishes out onto the wind, until every bit of the parachute had been released.
I can't remember what followed the blowing in the wind other than heading back to the family car for the long ride home, but those few memories still bring a warm sensation of joy to my heart and a smile to my face, and I'm still chasing dandelions.
Once a woman, twice a child.