I have memories of being a little girl, playing outside in the yard and picking the wildflowers growing along the fence around my house. I’d always look for the ones with long, spindly stems that could be wrapped together to make flower crowns for myself and tiny bouquets for my mom.
As I grew up, those flowers suddenly took on new meaning — “Loves me, loves me not, loves me, loves me not…” until you landed on the last petal, which told you if your feelings were reciprocated.