There is something very wholesome about a child carrying a basket and picking flowers in a garden
Even if the garden is only a set of flower pots on the sill and the basket is a mushroom packet with a cardboard handle taped on it.
The child picks a whole bunch of periwinkles and then arranges the flowers and some leaves that she picked on a tray. She changes the arrangements around so that they take on shapes - first a plant then a butterfly.
Rewind about twenty five years, i remember my grandfather picking flowers from his garden - tiny white flowers with orange stems which he would then thread together into a garland for the altar. He used to do this every evening and I used to sit next to him, watching and sometimes threading.
"Happy Mother's day!" she says to me, holding the tray.
"I also want to make one like that!" says Sophia
I start making excuses - its 10pm, tomorrow is a school day etc.
But the flower picker says
"Come with me Sophia, we will work on it together. We will be a team!"
She is beginning her managerial training.
She'll probably be better at it than I am. Though I would still prefer the farming career.
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