It Started with One Daffodil—and Taught Me Everything About Love
It all began with a single daffodil.
My youngest, Luca, picked it from the neighbor’s yard (without asking, of course) and came home beaming like he’d discovered a treasure.
“For you, Mama,” he said, holding it out with both hands, like it was the most precious thing in the world.
Since then, it’s become our ritual.
Every single school day, my boys come home with flowers. Sometimes it’s a full bouquet from the florist down the street—thanks to their grandma sneaking them a few dollars. Sometimes it’s a wild fistful of dandelions and clover. Rain or shine, they show up, backpacks crooked, sneakers muddy, clutching something beautiful just for me.
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