August 15. A garden near my place.

This flower in the garden reminds me of the brown-eyed susan flowers my parents used to pick. My dad liked wildflowers and if he saw a patch of brown-eyed susans while driving along, he would pull the car off the road to pick a bouquet. My mom would say, "Brown-eyed susans for a brown-eyed Susan" and hand the flowers to me to hold in the backseat.

"My name isn't Susan," I always said. As the youngest in a series of girls, I wasn't always sure my parents remembered my name. I was used to being called my sisters' names, though none is named Susan either. But those flower-picking times made me feel happy, and even as a little girl I had the feeling I would always remember them.

The staff at the garden tells me that the flower I drew is a yellow echinachea.