The faces of the daisies beam at me from the field radiating sunshine from their centers.
I think how we used to pick them when we were young, saying “Loves me. Loves me not” as we counted their petals, one by one. The last petal was supposed to reveal the truth.
Relationships don’t always run smoothly or continue forever. They run their courses; they have their cycles. But today, as I waived goodbye to the smiling face of a visiting friend, I realized something my childhood game didn’t tell us.
Once hearts touch, the only truth is “Loves me.”
Always.