The parade having ended, we were walking along, my hand in hers, her other hand clutching a bouquet of daffodils.
Strolling leisurely down the street lined with beautiful houses and well-kept yards, we both saw it at the same time – a heart in the path leading up to the home.
A crack in the concrete, not dissimilar to Cupid’s arrow, pierced the heart and then meandered away.
Anyone approaching the front porch had to pass to either side of the heart.
Instinctively she laid her bouquet of daffodils on the heart and we took our picture.
All the while a couple – as it would turn out the owners of the home – unbeknownst to us, watched us from the shaded porch.
“That’s a first!”
His voice startled us. We had not seen him there, nor his wife, both of whom were smiling.
We apologized for intruding, explained we were newlyweds late in life, to which the wife said, clasping her hands below her chin, “Oh, that is so special!”
The woman of the house, with her husband echoing her sentiments, congratulated us, said how they planted that heart every spring with all manner of beautiful flowers, and wished us well as we went on our way, bouquet of daffodils once again in her hand, her other hand grasping mine.
It is said of daffodils that they are a sign of rebirth and hope. Snapblooms.com writes of daffodils “They are powerful little survivors who have endured winter storms, thus they represent new life and perseverance…happiness and gratitude for life.”
This, we know.
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