In the middle of my sixth-grade year, our family moved from one end of the state to another.
Already a quiet person, my southern drawl secured my silence in lieu of classmate ridicule.
After a week, I received a note passed up the row of classroom seats. Cautiously I accepted the unexpected offering.
In careful cursive (what?), the note posed this question: Do you want to be my friend? Check Yes or No.
Initially, my heart swelled with joy. Unfortunately, my suspicious mind screeched the brakes. What if this was a joke? Were the students behind me laughing awaiting my response?
Before the tears could spill, I noticed the crudely drawn daisy at the top of the page. That sealed the deal for me. Daisies are my favorite flower snd I really needed a friend.
Until our sophomore year in high school Vickie and I wished one another a happy first day of the month with a hand written note adorned with a pencil-sketched daisy. When teenage hormones stopped our routine in favor of boys and extra curriculars, we no longer celebrated the start of a newkm onth,but this practice stayed with me in my daily journal writing.