Letter: A Frog and Daisies

One year ago, on February 8, I wrote about that day.

That day, then, was a special day.

This day, today, exactly one year later, is a special day.

On that very day, one year ago, following the death of my wife nearly a year previous, I had decided it was time to clean out the basement of our home, and so I moved box after box after box up the stairs, sorting through what the kids might want, what should go to the dumpster, what should go to charity.

Weary, carrying my last box up the stairs, I saw on top of my last box for the evening, a book for beginner readers entitled “First Day of Spring.”

The first day of spring, that very special day, is a day, the author wrote in giant letters for little readers, when “you can feel special things,” when “the sun feels special,” when “the flowers smell special.”

I sat on the stairs that night and read for beginner readers about how special is the time when the sun shines again, when flowers bloom again, when life and love burst forth again.

How very special was what I read that night.

How very special is what has happened since.

For there is someone so very special in my life again.

As she was helping me get my house ready for sale just the other day, in the long-since abandoned garage she found a little ceramic frog-decorated dish.

I had written about a frog upon whom a spell had been cast, a frog who was really a handsome prince but who needed a kiss from a lovely maiden to break the spell.

In my version of the story, I was the frog. And to the lovely maiden who has come into my life I had presented a bouquet of daisies.

And so it was, on this special day, that there on the old chest by the window were the symbols of our love – a frog, and daisies.