He asks me to stop so he can pick me a flower from the neighbor’s yard. I’ve explained—as God did to Adam—that some plants aren’t for us. But he chooses Eve’s path and plucks yellow petaled gifts for me. 

I see God’s predicament and wonder at the sorrow delivered in a small defiant tug. 

Taking the flower he calls sunflower—“because it’s yellow”—I smile and accept the bloom, that is too small to be what he says. 

His love, wrapped in this small flower, is an offering I know I will always open my hands for. Leaving the lesson of respecting another’s garden for some other day. My acceptance of this plucked plant proof I am far from the Divine. And I understand Adam’s fall for forbidden fruit a little more.