I have wished about a thousand wishes upon these weeds. They are filled with magic, hopes, and dreams of a youthful summer.
They are a simple reminder of sweaty days, starry nights, and sweet lemonade stands.
Today, they bring pain and misery upon my husbands allergies, sleepless nights of snoring and watery eyes. I long for the days of bike rides, baseball games, and coming inside only after the sun is down. I want to drink from the hose, run barefoot through the grass and catch fireflies tonight. If I were only six instead of twenty-six.
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