Buttercups

Out in our back yard, there are buttercups everywhere. They make me smile when I see them because they remind me of my dad. When he and my mother were dating, at the time I was about three years old, and I liked him at first sight. We often went on picnics together, too. At the time I didn’t realize that my mother was slowly falling in love with him; I sure was.

On one picnic, while Mom was clearing up, Dad and I took a short walk. We found a lot of buttercups, and we picked them together. It was about this time that I asked him if I could call him “Daddy.” He told me that I could, and we kept on picking the buttercups.

Long story short, he and my mom married, and we became what Dad called “We Three.” When we moved into our new house in Wolfeboro, NH, Mom immediately started a rose garden. Dad took care of the lawn. He noticed that there was a patch of buttercups in the back yard; every time he mowed the lawn, he was careful not to mow down the buttercups.

As it happens, we too have a plot of buttercups in our back yard. We leave them alone in their gorgeous yellow splender, and when I look at them, I remember Dad. It’s funny how we remember our childhood; the buttercups always bring Dad to mind. Such a little thing, buttercups; but even to this day they make me smile.

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