“I brought you violets.” Little Annie held up the little bouquet, and I took it carefully from her. “They are my favorite flower, and since I didn’t know your favorite, I brought them.”
“Thank you, Annie,” I took a sniff of the flowers to make her smile, “They are lovely.”
She gave me a big smile and it did actually make me feel better. After all, when a seven-year-old tries her best to make you feel better—It doesn’t really matter what they do, just the attempt makes you feel better.
“Come on, Annie. Miss Carter has a lot of people to talk to today,” Annie’s mother put a hand on the little girl’s shoulder, and led her away from me, her own sympathetic smile pointed in my direction for a second.
“Bye Miss Carter,” Annie gave me a little wave before letting herself be turned away.
It wasn’t until hours later, as the memorial service wrapped up, that I realized I still had the little purple flowers clutched in my hand, and just the sight of them made me smile again. I was going to make sure that little girl got the first thank you card I wrote.