The infant, holding herself up with her petite hands and unmarked knees gazed out at the fields. The thick green color was so amazingly new to her, as the first time she had seen her own hand. The meadow’s green was spotted with xanthous shades that sat upon thin miniscule lime green towers. In splotches, there were niveous bunches of fluff, spread over the unexplored terrain. This to the babe’s eyes seemed so much more interesting than the blanket she sat upon.
She gazed to her parents, both of them, seemingly so animated in each other’s company that they paid no mind to her. Her hands and knees began to carefully tread away from the safety of the cotton spread. Her once pure and soft hands and knees traveled through the dirt she hadn’t seen when she had taken in the thick green. She crawled toward the marvels that she had longed to catch sight of. As she ventured farther, her perception focusing on the alabaster fuzz that was embedded in the bed of the first flower she could view closely. Her baby-blues stared widely; as she reached out her minikin hand now tinted in light green and bits of soil the now marked her hand. The babe pulled the fluff from the flower, staring at the bits of white in her hand. As she was so indulged in the vision she had never seen before, the wind picked up and she heard a cry emanating from her mouth.
The infant now began to feel dirty, cold, and alone, yearning to be in the arms of her mother. As the wind grew harsher a single seed escaped the child’s hand before she clamped it shut. With this action the babe ruined the seeds’ chance of becoming anything their chance of growing into something great, something amazing. A child’s wish gone. A story, never written. A painting, faded. Their chance to prove that even a weed could become a flower, in the proper perception.
A lone seed glided up with a wisp of the strong wind, away from the child’s messy hand. This seed, so unintentionally alone simply rode upon the bitter, cruel wind. The seed, attached to a snowy bit of fuzz, took every hit, twist, turn, and change the wind brought. Briskly, despondently, aimlessly, and idly the seed drifted, never landing, and thus, never growing.
