Dancing With the Daffodils

Mar 10, 2016

It was more than forty years ago

but I can’t see daffodils without remembering that special moment of long ago.

Everything that day up until that moment had been ordinary.

College classes.  Long walks to and fro. Quick snack on the run.

I was young. Yes, very young and going to college more than five hours from home.

And I missed home.

My mom’s cooking. The sound of familiar voices.  Loving family ties.

The broad streets where the first hint of spring had appeared.  My mom had told me about it in her recent letter. But it was still three weeks until spring break. Three weeks that seemed like forever to this college freshman.

As I walked into the dorm that late afternoon

my thoughts were probably already pondering what I’d study that night.

My steps were slow matching the heaviness of my heart.

But as I walked toward the stairs that would take me to my room

my eyes fell upon a huge bouquet of daffodils sitting on the counter.

Their beauty broke through not only the dreariness of my lonely life

but also the routine of the day.

Curiosity drew me to the yellow daffodils.

Who could have possibly left them here?

I glanced around the empty lobby.


Then my eyes looked down at those gorgeous dancing flowers

and I noticed a small piece of white paper with something scribbled on it.

My name.

That was all.

Those lovely daffodils were for me.

Someone. Somewhere had left them for me.

Joy upon joy flooded my heart. Loneliness disappeared and in it’s place was gratitude.

Words from Wordsworth’s poem came to mind –

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance

That gorgeous bouquet shone as brightly as ten thousand daffodils

that day

and still dances in my memory. Rich with beauty.

Somehow the years passed and I found myself finally going home

to my lovely hometown along the Susquehanna River.

But I never forgot those golden dancing daffodils and the kindness of the mysterious giver.

And today as I passed them on a morning walk my heart beat gladly with joy again.

He knows your every need.

He sees your deepest longing.

He cares

and will never forget.

daffodils march 10


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