She reminded him of a dandelion. She was an ardent youth who consulted God for all she had, and all that she lacked. When faced with a problem, he’d ask her to pray on his behalf, somehow sure that his wishes, when delivered through her, would be of greater consequence. He held her hand while she cried; her skin and affirmation of their reality.

He always felt she might blow away. He wanted to ask her what provoked the tears, but knew; some things and most things are better left to bloom on their own.

 

-Anam Sufi