literature

Just a Dandelion

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carcrxshhearts's avatar
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Literature Text

I think dandelions lost all meaning the same time the Tooth Fairy and faith & trust & pixie dust did.

When we were small, we would cower from the big swirly slide on the playground and take cover under the seemingly sky-scraping monkey bars.  There, in huddles like gold-crowned royalty, were dandelions.

They were something we took for granted, like sunrise when we would wake and pounce on our cranky, groggy parents, or dessert after dinner.

But now we can never get up past noon on weekends, and we avoid cookies and ice cream because we're afraid of being fat and ugly and pointless.  Most of all, dandelion wishes blew away with the wind.

My mother despised dandelions.  "A weed," she snarled, wielding a can of weed killer.  "That's all they are."  When I presented them to her as a pink-cheeked child, fair hair in mommy-styled pigtails, she would wave me away and tell me to bury it so I could grow a new one.  I used to believe anything my mommy said.

Now, my hair is darker, and I don't let my mother touch it anymore because I don't trust her.

She threw me out of the house, aiming at the junkyard.  I didn't function right anymore, and all that was left were spare Quinn parts that other people would pick up, dust off, and decorate a nursery for.

All I had was this baby, and I was handing her down the assembly line, another part of the adoption process.  I could see her later on, and she would see me, but neither of us would know who the other was.  Family would be just another face in the crowd.

She would twirl through her dandelion years and into high school, where she'd crash into a locker in a flurry of papers and grape Slushie.

I wanted her to be a flower, not a dandelion.  A beautiful red flower, always dancing whenever the wind whispered a tune to her.

Dandelions never danced.  They stood straight and awkward with their oversized yellow caps and milky stems.  I was a dandelion: once praised and held sacred, then forgotten and buried in the dirt.  My baby would be a flower.




There were a few sporadic knocks at the front door, snapping me out of my trance.  I slowly lifted my head from the arm of the couch and drifted to the doorway.

"You locked me out again, Quinn," Finn greeted, scraping the bottoms of his shoes against the welcome mat.

"Oh."

He looked at me.  "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, closing my eyes.  "Nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay."  And that was Finn, never understanding.  He was about to shut the door when I opened my eyes and spotted a tuft of dirty yellow on the doormat.

"Wait!" I dropped to my knees, plucking the dandelion up and straightening its crushed stalk.

"Huh? What is it?" Finn squinted at me; slaving over putting each golden petal black into place.

"Look!" My voice cracked as I thrust the irreparable dandelion at him.

"Quinn."  Finn sighed.  "It came off of my shoe.  It's just a dandelion."

I stared at him, studying his confused brown eyes and outstretched hand.  I took it to help myself up, fingers numb when I released the petals and let them fall to the ground.

Just a dandelion.
;~;

I had the dandelion idea since, like, sixth grade, but never knew when to use it. I was swinging on my nana's bench swing outside and I saw the dandelions and I was like QUINNN.

But, yeah, obviously from Quinn's point of view. Yup.

EDIT: :iconamericananaconda: drew this awesome picture to go with this. Send love to her! <3 [link]
© 2010 - 2024 carcrxshhearts
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AmericanAnaconda's avatar
Waow. I love it. :aww: Now I want to draw it.... may I try?