The afternoon sun sheds its warm glow, as I absently flip the pages of a book that I just picked off my bookshelf. I smile. For, within the pages of this yellowed book are some small, hand-pressed pink flowers. I marvel at the passage of time – it is nearly a decade since I pressed those flowers carefully into the pages of the book.
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As I lovingly run my fingers over the petals, I am transported back in time to nearly ten years ago – to one of many evenings, when I would sit with my friends by the pool side for our evening chitchat. And, the routine was the same every day. At about 6 p.m. my friends would nudge me and smile. Without appearing to do so, I would look for him from the corner of my eye.
He usually wore bright coloured tees and shorts and would come walk-running down the grassy path near the swimming pool. His eyes would scan the pool deck chairs for me, and his eyes would finally find mine.
With a smile of absolute love, my son, three years old, would run and give me a small flower and a hug.
Priceless love preserved in miniature flowers!