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“I always knew you were the weed of the family!”
“Don’t you understand how you ruined everything for us?”
Usually my parents told me their criticism at least in pretty euphemisms. Maybe I had crossed a border by dropping out of university for the third time but I just couldn’t find the right programme.
“Please, believe me this time I really,” I swallowed my tears away, “I really tried my best.”
“I don’t think your best is very good then,” my mother told me. My sister laughed a bit but I didn’t think it was funny. I actually didn’t believe she was really joking.
“So what is your plan now?” my sister asked. I didn’t know. “Are you going to an art school?” She had been telling me my whole life that I just should go to art school. But for art school you have to be good at art. I wasn’t good; I just really enjoyed it. My sister didn’t really know the difference between those because whenever she is enjoyed something she was also really good at it.
“Well, I haven’t really had time to draw or paint the last months so my chances to get accepted are… like, zero.”
“In my opinion it is not-” my father began but I already knew what was coming. We’d had this argument many times before. He thought art wasn’t a serious career.
“I’m going for a walk,” I announced. Our home felt too cramped for my father’s anger, my mother’s disappointment, my sister’s hubris and my… everything.
“No. We have to talk about-” I slammed the door. I wasn’t ready to hear about all my mistakes again.
When I was outside I didn’t know where to go until I heard cheerful voices from the playground. It used to be one of my favourite places. The slide looked more dilapidated then I remembered though. The lawn wasn’t well maintained either. It was full of dandelions. Adults always thought they are a weed.
“Whoo!”. Two boys went down the slide. The smaller one looked a bit scared but an elder lady, I think their grandma, catched them. Grandpa applauded. “Watch out, madame!” I dodged the ball that was coming my way. It landed in the bushes behind me. I picked it up and threw it back to the girls who were playing soccer. “Thank you so much, madame!”
I sat down on the swing. It squeaked. I watched the children and their grandparents play. It made me sad to see this place turned into such a ruin but they didn’t seem to be bothered by the state of the playground at all.
“Do you want a dandelion?” one of the children handed me an overblown flower. I thanked her, my voice still sounding as if I was about to cry.
“You have to blow it.” I did. “Make a wish,” she whispered. I wish....
The flower fluff flew away. I wish…
I wish everyone would realize that dandelions are not a weed. No, I wish everyone would know that even if a flower is blooming in a place where it doesn’t belong, it’s still a flower.