A Walk Among Wildflowers

We head out this morning, a day my daughter and I are supposed to spend together, in a hurry. I’m late for my hair appointment, and we don’t have time for that chai tea I promised her. She doesn’t complain or insist, though I wouldn’t blame her if she did; instead she reads quietly in the backseat while I speed toward the salon.

It’s raining today, and I secretly balk at the idea of spending an hour or two later this afternoon on a wet hiking trail, but it’s what she wants to do. Last week her sister chose to attend a concert with me, but this daughter, she decides on a science class instead. Sometimes I wonder if one of them is adopted.

She waits patiently during that much-needed trim of mine, as well as a trip to the library, and several errands to nearby stores. Then she wonders if we can grab a bite to eat, and I realize she hasn’t eaten anything all day. We buzz through Wendy’s, pick up our lunches, and I check the dashboard clock. We have twenty minutes to get to the class fifteen miles away, so I push the pedal to its accustomed position today, which is to say, close to the floor.

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