The Little Girl in the Daisies

A while back now, I lost a close friend in a car accident. A lorry had pulled out at twice the speed limit, slammed into the side of her, killing her almost instantly. I didn't cry when I heard the news. I didn't cry at her funeral. It wasn't until two weeks later that I let her death affect me.

I was miles away from home, and alone, in the countryside. I had found a field of daisies and sat myself down in the middle of them. I began to think about the good times gone, and the ones never had. I picked at some of the flowers around me, bright white in the sunshine. I close my eyes and let the tears fall, and I forgot about everything else.

"Are you okay?" were the words that brought be back to the real world. I opened my eyes to find them looking at a young girl. She wore a pink dress, and her hazel hair fell long down her back. She held her hands behind her back like she held a secret I wasn't allowed to see.

"I'm not sure." I replied. It was a moment of honestly I would have usually hidden. It felt wrong.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

And I told her. And as I did, I discovered why I had been crying at the same time the little girl did.

I had her look at the huge field, filled with millions of daisies, and I told her to imagine that they were all people. I had lost a friend, and it should be a terrible loss. But if I removed one daisy from the field, it wouldn't change anything. The field would still be beautiful, and anyone coming tomorrow would have no idea that a flower was even missing.

The girl listened quietly as I explained this, nodding occasionally. When I finished, she took out a handkerchief and handed it to me.

"That's a sad way to look at life."

I wiped my eyes, before questioning her logic.

"All these daisies look the same to the sky.' she explained, 'but you are down amongst them. There are millions of them, but only a few count."

She pointed to one flower. "That one is missing half of its petals."

She pointed down to my leg. "And those ones are tickling the bottom of your leg."

She sniffed the air "And that sweet smell isn't coming from the flowers all the way over there. It is coming from here, the daisies around you."

"Those daisies are important to you. They are the ones that touch you, brighten your day, and make a difference to you. The only people that don't care about the daisies are the ones with none around them. And they are lonely people. Or, the sky."

She only said one more thing. She curtsied and said "You're allowed to cry."

Then she ran away before I could thank her or return her handkerchief.

I sat for a while and thought about the little girl's words. When the world started making sense again, I picked a handful of daisies and took them with me.

When I got home, I took a drive to the church and laid them on my friend's grave. I crouched down and closed my eyes, hoping that my words would mean something.

"You were my favourite daisy."

:D

http://iceytina.deviantart.com/art/Daisy-a-Commision-for-me-30010172