Window to the Soul

After the seeds blew away (Dandelion, updated)

After the seeds blew away

So I was riding my bike

down the street next to my house

and my dad was mowing the lawn.

I saw this dandelion, and,

being in seventh grade,

I pulled over and picked it up

out of the ground

and looked at it.

It was just like any other

dandelion I'd ever picked,

tall green stem,

fuzzy white top made

of spider-leg seeds. And I did

what any other kid would've done--

I blew off all the seeds.

And I watched those seeds float away,

though I doubted they'd get much farther than the street

that I was still on. They probably didn't. Except

I looked back at the picked dandelion still

in my hand, and on top of the head

was this one little spider-leg seed

that hadn't flown away with its friends.

I found it strange.

So I blew again, because

how satisfying is it when you fail

to blow all the seeds off a dandelion?

It isn't.

I blew at it, and that seed didn't move a bit.

It's like it knew I wasn't satisfied, the jerk.

The seed still didn't budge.

I kept blowing, because

I'm a stubborn person. Anyone

who knows who I am knows

I'm a stubborn person. One stupid

little dandelion seed wasn't going to stop me.

And it still didn't move.

Exasperated, I used my other hand

to pick the spider-leg seed off the head

of the dandelion. Placing it

in my palm, I then blew it away.

That took way more effort than was necessary.

And looking back at that, I can't help

but think it was trying to tell me something.

I was stubborn in trying to get that

seed off the dandelion.

That seed was stubborn in trying to

stay on the dandelion.

That seed didn't move with all its other friends.

And it eventually was so stuck on itself

to the point where it needed help even

getting up and moving. Someone

had to push it along.

Go figure that I'd be the one doing that.