Billie sat at the kitchen table, crayons scattered, drawing a big green tree.
She wrote her name, then reached for the roots—two blank pages sat waiting.
She scrunched her brows, grabbed a red crayon, and scribbled a question mark. The crayon snapped with a sharp crack.
Billie tiptoed to the bookshelf and pulled down a family photo album. She flipped to a page with a big tree diagram.
A tiny seed packet fell from between the pages. It had a picture of a sunflower on the front.
Billie carried the seed packet outside, dug a small hole near the garden bench, and patted the soil flat.
She whispered, Grow, and waited. A ladybug crawled over the spot and seemed to shrug.
Billie trudged back inside. Her mom pointed to the drawing table. The two question marks had turned into tiny green shoots.
Mom whispered, Those pages are okay to leave empty for now. Billie leaned into her, watching the shoots curl.
The next morning, Billie ran to the table. A single sunflower seed was tucked under the blank pages.
She placed it in the garden hole, patted the soil, and added a drawing of a rainbow.
Her mom joined her. Together they watched the seed settle, waiting for spring.
