Men and Dandelions

Author's Note: This is a fictional (not real) piece I wrote inspired by a dandelion I found at the park.

The city breeds business; young men and women eager to make millions off of manipulation, intimidation, and an inviting false smile. The city drools over the dreamers; young men and women ambitious to make a name for themselves by memorizing poorly written scripts, strumming busted guitars, and flashing a crooked smile. And if one is lucky enough to find the other, the two will balance reality and dreams together.

               

                Elle Fitz strode through the New York City streets, easily juggling her tasks for the day. She rushed through her morning routine which consisted of grabbing the daily newspaper and a freshly brewed cup of coffee before heading into work. She navigated through the streets carefully; her new Louis Vuitton heels were not to be ruined.  The young business woman was the editor for Elle magazine and as much as the job gave her, it took equally as much. Being editor gave Elle a materialistic outlook on the world. She no longer daydreamed of possessing better belongings; she had them, and never settled for anything but the best the world had to offer. She spent thousands of dollars on designer clothing and beauty products; she kept her nails finely manicured and her hair curled to perfection. After all, the editor of Elle magazine must look highly professional and up-to-date with current trends.

                As she neared the magazine’s office building she spotted something vibrant and yellow peeking out at her from between a crack in the sidewalk. It had grown right outside the entrance of her work place. A disgusted look appeared on her face as she murmured something about city workers not doing their jobs correctly. She quickly kneeled down and plucked the dandelion from the ground, but as she stood up and stared at it occurred to her that she was no longer holding a dandelion, but a memory.

                Elle had spent her days as a child exploring the outdoors picking crab apples from trees, blueberries from bushes and dandelions from the ground. She remembered trying to put a dandelion in a small glass and place it in the center of the table every night before dinner, like her mother did when she received bouquets of flowers. But every night her mother would let out a disgusted grunt and immediately throw the flower away. One night, in particular, she explained to Elle that the dandelion was ‘nothing more than a weed’ and ‘wasn’t the least bit special’. Elle struggled to understand that there was no value to the flower, it was beautiful to her. When mentioning the flower was extraordinary to her, her mother added ‘there are millions like it, one day you’ll notice it's insignificance’. And that is where the conversation ended.

                It wasn’t until years later that Elle understood and agreed with what her mother said. The dandelion resembled her relationship with her ex-husband, Adam. Upon finding him, she thought he was beautiful, inside and out. The two of them spent countless nights at dinner parties and business gatherings. Elle believed that the two of them were inseparable and that they were compatible on every level, until she began to observe her husband’s co-workers. Each of the men and their dates were following the same routine every night, much like Adam and herself. Foolishly, Elle believed once the two were wed and living together that everything would change and they would act like a real couple. But after months and months of waiting for things to change Elle came to the realization that Adam was like a dandelion. There was nothing special about the man she agreed to spend the rest of her life with and there were several other men that were just like Adam. All men in the world were the same and there was nothing beautiful about it. Mother was right.

                The dandelion was quickly destroyed as Elle clasped her hand shut. She looked up in search of the nearest trash can and quickly paced towards it. She satisfyingly threw the yellow disaster in the trash and turned to walk into her office, but not before slamming into a stranger. The coffee cup slipped out of Elle’s hand and the scolding liquid poured onto her Louis Vuitton heels and her exposed skin. The repeated question ‘are you okay’ could be heard faintly through Elle’s thoughts. A tear threatened to fall from her left eye, but she quickly composed herself and attempted to ignore the pain. All she could manage to mumble was ‘Louis Vuitton’. She watched as a curly haired man quickly took off the plaid shirt that was wrapped around his waist and kneeled to the ground to dry off Elle’s shoes. The man was dressed casually in a black tee and tattered jeans. A busted guitar hung off of his back. After drying off Elle’s shoes he quickly stood up, flashed a crooked smile and said, “good as new”. And strangely, she agreed with him, although she knew that the shoes were wrecked beyond belief. Perhaps her analogy about dandelions was flawed.