The day dawned bright and clear in lush green pastoral setting at the North Union Cemetery. That morning, a young boy had jumped at the chance to go with his Great Uncle Homer, a World War I soldier, to help mow and clean up the picturesque old cemetery in time for Memorial Day which is only days away.

Although he would have been willing to do it for nothing, because he loved hanging around with his Uncle Homer; the old soldier wouldn't hear of it.

On the way over to the cemetery, the old man had looked sideways at the young boy riding in the front seat of his old truck.

"How much do you figure you should charge me for helping me for the next few days?"

"Nothing, Uncle Homer, you don't have to pay me anything. I'm just glad to spend the day with you. At least, it gets me out of the house."

The old man nodded and laughed at the boy's outspoken honesty.

"Well... , Son," he said, glancing sideways at the boy. "How does $3.00 dollars a day strike you? Would that be fair?"

The young boy couldn't believe his ears. "Sure, but you don't have to pay me, Uncle Homer," he said.

"Well, you know what the Good Book says, 'A laborer is worthy of his hire.'"

"Well, okay," the boy said, after thinking it over for a moment.

"Would you be sure to let my Pop know it was your idea? I don't want him to think I ask you for money," the boy said.

The old man smiled and nodded. "I'll talk to your Dad, Son."

All the way over there, the old man had impressed on his young helper that the beautiful Garden of Remembrance needed to shine for that special day. This was the day all the relatives of the dead would be coming back to pay their respects and to honor their loved ones who had passed away.

The boy loved it, that his Uncle left him alone, entrusted him to mow around the tombstones. Before long, as the day grew hotter, he begin pulling his old blue bandana out of his pocket to wipe the sweat from his face more frequently, before he continued his mowing.

Later that morning, while mowing at the north end of the cemetery, he was amazed to find a Tombstone that had an actual picture of a man and his wife. While the man was handsome in a rugged sort of way, it was the picture of his wife that captivated the boy.

Her picture in light brown ceramic tile was beautiful. Even that evening as he was preparing for bed he was still thinking about her. As he drifted off to sleep later that night, she was the last thought to cross his mind as silently by slow degrees he slipped into a quiet gentle slumber.

The next morning, when he again joined his Uncle Homer in the cemetery, he brought with him a pair of scissors.

Later that morning his uncle found him down on his hands and knees by the beautiful woman's tombstone trimming the grass that grew too close to the tombstone for the mower to reach.

"She was a beautiful lady, wasn't she?" he said to the boy.

"Yes Sir. Did you know her, Uncle Homer?"

"No, but I do remember the day of her funeral. She and her husband were killed in an automobile accident out on Route 22. Their family buried the two of them on the same day."

"Did she have lots of family?"

"Her parents were quite old, but I think she had a younger sister. I think her name was Sally something-or-other. I read in the papers a couple years later that her sister got married. She married some guy well-to-do. Now, I think she's about the only one that still comes every year."

"Come on boy," the old man said, in a kindly manner, "We have a lot of work to get done between now and Memorial Day."

As busy as he was throughout the day, whenever the boy would pass near her tombstone, he would slip over to gaze once more at her beautiful face on her monument. Looking at the date, he could see she had been dead over ten years.

Why do I feel so sad?" he wondered, confused by his own feelings for her. She's been down there in the ground for over ten years. The grass is all grown over her grave. You can't even tell where they dug, he thought.

Feeling melancholy and sad, he wondered in his young mind if he would ever meet anyone in real life with a face that was as beautiful as hers. She was his boyish idea of how a woman should look—and she was dead.

Memorial Day...

Memorial Day dawned bright and clear. Walking to the cemetery early that morning, he knew one of his last jobs would be to help his Uncle Homer distribute the wreaths of flowers that had been sent by people who would be unable to be there.

By ten o'clock that morning, North Union Cemetery, that beautiful Garden of Remembrance, had scores of graves brightly decorated with flowers and wreaths of many colors. Old friends were soon meeting and greeting other old friends. They quickly became caught up in renewing acquaintances with the friends and neighbors they had lost track of down through the years.

Once everyone's flowers had been placed on their relative's grave, the young boy headed over toward the part of the cemetery where the beautiful lady's grave was located.

Arriving there, he was sad to find no one had brought any flowers for her grave. Standing, looking at the ceramic picture of her beautiful face mounted forever on the face of her tombstone, he felt boyish tears welling up in his eyes.

I wish I had some flowers, he thought, wistfully. I would put them on her grave. She is so beautiful. I wonder why no one brought her flowers.

Looking over at the stone fence that surrounding the cemetery, he saw some beautiful large yellow dandelions. He had spotted them the day before when he had mowed this section. Because the dandelions were so full and beautiful, he had decided not to remove them. Being a boy with a tender heart, he had not been able to bring himself to cut them down.

Walking over to the stone fence, he carefully pulled eight or ten of the biggest and the most beautiful of the yellow dandelions. Walking back over he placed them on her gravestone, next to her beautiful face.

A feeling of happiness swept over him. She would at least have a bouquet of beautiful yellow dandelions. Since his work for the day was now completed, he went over and sat down on a tombstone a few feet away.