The Yellow Flower

On one of my trips through Jefferson Barracks Park in the snow (and honestly, these days, it feels like if I don’t go out into the snow, I won’t get out at all), I came across the memorial to the Battle of the Bulge. It overlooks the Mississippi River in the background and honors the thousands of brave lives lost. But, it actually wasn’t until I looked through my lens that I saw it…

February Snow Day

Do you see it?

Right there, in the hand of the statue of the soldier, on a freezing cold, snowy day, someone came by and put a yellow flower into his hand.

It was quiet. No one else, except the Hubs and I, was around. The wind was blowing in from the river. But, at some point that day, someone felt strongly enough to come out to that memorial and leave a yellow flower.

I was touched. I wondered who had been there. And why on such a miserable day. I felt funny and didn’t want to venture any closer than this to the site. I sort of felt like I was somehow intruding.

But, it was wonderful to think that, even after all these years, it still mattered so much to someone that the need to leave that flower was more important than than the wind or the cold or the snow…

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