Relatives of the young ballerinas brought flowers to the performance. Everyone brought red roses for their little star. Everyone but me. My little ballerina did not like roses, her favorite flowers were daisies. Bright, cheerful, white and yellow daisies. While some parents looked at us askance, I knew when I saw my daughter’s face light up with joy and excitement that my precious ballerina was unique. I bought her a big bouquet of daisies and her face was lit up by happiness, her blond hair, gleamed in the sun, and her arms clutched her special flowers. My daughter, now seventeen, still knows exactly what she wants, she has always known. She planned her birthday parties four years in advance and while her blonde hair is now darker, she is as unique as ever, a vegetarian, a unique soul. Though she no longer loves daisies, she doesn’t know what her favorite flower is anymore and there’s plenty of time to figure that out, it’s perfectly alright.