That Daisy

• Hannah Thomas, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2015

It was alone, stranded in the middle of nothing. But alone it boldly shone, smiling through even the darkest of days. I took my inspiration from that daisy. I passed by it every day and even when I returned home dejected, as I so often did, it never failed to fill me up with hope again. It didn’t care that it was small, that it was modest and insignificant in the eyes of most. It didn’t mind been overshadowed by everything around it. It was bold, had all the confidence I needed. On cold days, it looked slightly shabby but always, always still stood bravely, doing the most it could with what it had.
It taught me so much, that tiny little flower. To not give up when it seemed the sun could never shine again, to never let myself believe that I was small and unimportant and to always, always wear a smile. Forced, maybe, but continually there. When I wore a smile I had to have some confidence.
That daisy was a symbol of all the faith I ever had. It was the object that never failed to let me down. When so many others broke my trust and turned their head, or showed that they were hiding their true colours, that daisy was always bright and cheerful and true.
The habit of comparing others to the happy, courageous little flower came almost unconsciously. But how many people fell short of the judgement! So many were afraid to just go blindly forward relying on nothing other than the hope that things would brighten up tomorrow. Unlike that daisy, they were fearful of the thought of living for the happiness of their self. They shrunk from the boldness that the daisy showed. I sometimes felt myself falling short of the tests of that daisy, and was almost ashamed to admit when I myself shrunk back from the world.
I did, in a way worship that daisy. It went beyond admiration, and like everything I took it too far. There was a day that I passed by the spot and turned, as a matter of routine to smile at my little friend, to find it gone. Even this wondrous soul that I based my life on had an enemy that it could not conquer. The sad remains of that innocent daisy, squashed almost beyond recognition, were provided as evidence that even a strong, independent daisy would break under pressure. I spent the rest of that day in a daze, numbed by that thought.
Yet, I could keep going on. In my memory remained sacred the Daisy that was not in awe of the big wide world and wasn’t afraid to smile when things were tough. Still, I feel the responsibility to live up to that Daisy’s example, but, always I remember that everyone can fold under pressure