Remember this verse?
He loves me,
He loves me not.
He loves me,
He loves me not.
He loves me…
When I was a young girl, my friends and I often plucked the petals of daisy-like flowers, hoping the final petal coincided with he loves me.
But… what if the last petal announced the wrong outcome? We plucked another flower and started over, of course.
It’s funny to think back on it. Especially since as fifth graders flitting and skipping around during recess, we had no idea who “he” was. Certainly he couldn’t be one of the boys in class. Gross. #cooties
He loves me, he loves me not…
