Clover stood up from her crouching position and took a watering can that rested nearby. The story continued.
[...]
"My grandfather had always been passionate about tales. He knew thousands of them even back then, so he used to share some with the flowers as he worked in the garden. To anyone else, he could seem to be talking to himself, but he believed that any good gardener should always speak to the lives under their care.
One day, a flower seemed to make a mention about one of his tales. ‘I wonder if the prince would have picked me,...had I lived longer,’ she said, and something moved inside his heart.
Wishing to see if he could really make a difference in a flower’s last thought, my young grandpa started focusing on a newborn. It wasn't that he neglected the others, but that little flower was the one he looked at the most, the one he spoke to the most. After a few suns, it was her time to go with the most brief, albeit not the least meaningful of thoughts. She said 'Thank you', before she joined the flow of aether.
[...]
Watering the new seeds, Clover smiled slightly to herself.
"Grandpa told me once that grandma, the woman he would meet little more than a year later, was actually his second love."
She looked back at Andre once more.
"What do you think the miracle was? That a flower was able to love him, or that he was able to love a flower?"
[...]
"My grandfather had always been passionate about tales. He knew thousands of them even back then, so he used to share some with the flowers as he worked in the garden. To anyone else, he could seem to be talking to himself, but he believed that any good gardener should always speak to the lives under their care.
One day, a flower seemed to make a mention about one of his tales. ‘I wonder if the prince would have picked me,...had I lived longer,’ she said, and something moved inside his heart.
Wishing to see if he could really make a difference in a flower’s last thought, my young grandpa started focusing on a newborn. It wasn't that he neglected the others, but that little flower was the one he looked at the most, the one he spoke to the most. After a few suns, it was her time to go with the most brief, albeit not the least meaningful of thoughts. She said 'Thank you', before she joined the flow of aether.
[...]
Watering the new seeds, Clover smiled slightly to herself.
"Grandpa told me once that grandma, the woman he would meet little more than a year later, was actually his second love."
She looked back at Andre once more.
"What do you think the miracle was? That a flower was able to love him, or that he was able to love a flower?"
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Clover Blake (Hyur) /Â K'mih Yohko (Miqo'te)
