Maybe another dad and his little girl would stop every morning, the girl smelling the flower and saying “good morning, sunshine” each and every time she saw that one beautiful flower… until the accident…
…now, the doctors say she might never wake up, but tell her father, “if there’s anything you have that might be familiar to her, any songs or smells, a favourite blanket or anything like that… anything might help.” So he brings the blankets, the toys, her mom’s fresh baked cookies… just trying to find some sign she’s still in there… but nothing works. This morning, however, he’s on the walk he used to take with her every morning, just trying to clear his head, when he sees it. “That’s it,” he thinks. He clips off the flower, whispering “thank you” to whoever planted this beautiful thing, rushing to the hospital, to her bedside, and placing the flower just under her nose, whispering… “good morning, sunshine…”
