Dandelion dreams

Today, while I was driving to school I saw a man on the side of the road. From a distance he looked lost, like he was stranded on the side of a four-lane highway. Cars speeded past him and even if it was true that he needed help, none seemed to notice.
As I approached him I saw in his hand a large dandelion clock; my friend Hannah calls them dandelion wishes. He looked so out of place. I thought it was beautiful.
Sometimes when we do something multiple times, the event becomes ordinary. Actually, it is not the act or the event or the thing that becomes ordinary, it is that our way of thinking becomes ordinary.
The man on the side of the road reminded me that I have been seeing too much of the ordinary lately. Nothing has changed except my vision.
For a moment, I saw myself in the man on the side of the road. He looked ordinary, he was dressed casually and in any other environment he might have conformed. Except, he was holding the seeds of a plant in his hand and, I remember, he was staring at them with an intent gaze.
I think sometimes we feel very ordinary in the midst of routine, but I hold dreams inside of my hands and I am waiting for them to float away and myself with them.
The extraordinary in the midst of the ordinary.