Why I grow flowers; a letter to a woman I don't know

When I was a little girl, a woman who lived down the road from my grandparents grew Dahlias.

I will never forget the amazement that came over me as she walked me through the rows of flowers and clipped one to place in my hand.

My mind was a buzz with questions:

What was the exact chain of events that inspired this seed to pop?
When did it finally realize that it could no longer be just a seed?

I was instantly mesmerized by their mission and aligned with their journey.

With a soft smile and no answers other than the twinkle in her, I recognized the exchange as nothing short of magic.

A soft and gentle gesture, it's a gift that can never be diminished. 

From time to time as I sit in my garden, I see the face of that woman. I wonder if she knew the power of the example she was setting.

I hope I'm doing the same.