I went to the garden to pick some Zinnias for my in house bouquets the other night. I stopped to look over my 4 o'clocks which were opening because it was evening.
I glanced down at the bright happy flowers of the 4 o'clocks and then noticed that they were beginning to produce seeds.
I knelt down next to them and began to search for the little black seeds that I told my sons were flower 'hand-grenades'. Well, that is what they look like.
As I started to pick and search in between the flowers I was reminded of doing this with my boys while waiting for their school bus to arrive to pick them up in the morning.
And how I sat near the flowers and waited for them to depart from the bus on the corner down the street.
The memories of them being so young washed over me.
It really hadn't felt as if it were so long ago. Yet it was.
I held in my hands the seeds of memories.
I don't think I can ever gather 4 o'clock seeds without thinking of my sons, the first days of school, and school buses.
Indeed it was a very pleasant memory.
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