Flower crowns $4 a piece

Nestled in a bustling city, the biggest for miles any proud of it, live many of those robotic-looking silicon valley folk. People who are content with the scheduled days of wake up, log in, log out, sleep, repeat. A kind of folk whose only magic is the way the computer in their fancy cars parallel park for them in front of the busy coffee shop. Not ever noticing the butterflies and the bees gathering in their few manicured curbside flower beds.

Once a week for a few months each year, one street between two roundabouts transforms into a marketplace, popping up out of nothing. A place for the farmers and artisans alike to present their latest successes. On one seemingly unexceptional day a vendor unknown to most sets up her tent and starts weaving. These urban cyborgs walk the street in two perfect lines as if they were the cars, gathering their necessities and walking for something to do. Til a little one runs out of line shouting "Mom look! flower crowns" and by the time her parent reluctantly steps to the side, she's already trying the daisies on for size. That four dollars spent a token of the old world walked back into the crowd adding one spot of a magic long forgotten to the sea of people wearing bluetooth devices.

It only took a moment for the crown to be spotted and then tracked down by the next group of kids. These ones all testing crowns and swapping, and finally dropping the smallest on their little brother's head. Eventually one of them turned to her mom thrusting the delicate wreath up declaring "this one is just your size" and the vendor smiled. She didn't stop braiding when she spoke up and said "a dollar off if you'd like both, and enjoy the solstice day."

I think when our parents warned us about peer pressure in our youth they must've been projecting their own experiences as adults, too afraid to step out of the crowd. Once an adult got brave, the rest wanted in too. The crowns flew off the table, her poor fingers racing to keep up, the vendor finally looked up from her pile of stems. Grown women swapping with each other to pick the crown that feels just right, and men buying one to present from behind their backs, suddenly the adults were wearing as many as the youth. Rubbing her tired hands, she smiled and admired the way the rings of white blossoms bobbed along in the sea of people. Some tall and small spinning in circles, now dancing over the top of the dotted lines that were so strictly guiding them before. As the sun crossed that highest point in its midsummer sky, the maker watched her crafts walk on home.

The market packed up as quickly as it appeared, and the cars returned to their normal programs weaving through the neighborhood and around the roundabouts. The quiet vendor, unknown to most, closed up her boxes and loaded out with the rest. She knew that tonight each patio and rooftop garden would be blessed. The fairies couldn't ignore a town, even one made of so much concrete and steel, when each bedside table held a ring of flowers and leaves. No one will soon forget the day those modern cyborgs remembered their humanity, and the children stayed up late to ask their parents why a seed sprouts, or where a fairy sleeps. A day when parents felt what it's like to stop and smell the flowers with every hug given while those crowns sit atop their favorite little heads. For that one midsummer morning the adults remembered to play.