And there is pansies.

When I was a child, pansies were my favorite flower. I’m looking at an image of them now, trying to swim backward in my thought to figure out why. I like them, still, but I don’t know if that’s because I used to like them so I associate them with my childhood affection. They are colorful, certainly.
And intrepid. They will grow when nothing else will. That’s why I like them now – their resilience and robustness.
But why when I was little? Was it the name? The colors? The shape? The way they looked like faces? Their height? When I was small, they were much closer to me than they are now.
But I love them still. Whether it’s because I loved them before or not, I will never know. But if someone handed me a bouquet of pansies, I would find it endlessly charming.

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