He sits on a grassy hill. Mahoroba. Far from any cities of note and even further from the beaten path. Any moments preceding are hazy, long forgotten. It's when he spots it that the memory becomes clearer to his present mind. The weed. Mindeulle. His namesake. Small, unassuming, even cheerful in its yellow color but decidedly offensive to the boy just then. There is a small patch of them. Both fully bloomed and seedlings. The boy is about eleven years in age, or just under it, face covered in freckles. His hands reach for one of them, intent to crush the plant between fingers. She stops him though, kneeling beside him. He feels now that she sensed his question before he spoke it.
"Ma, why dandelion? They're so ugly. They're not even a pretty flower."
"I've told you before. They remind your father and I of the place we met." He's heard this story before, and isn't interested in it again. She can tell that this hasn't changed his opinion of the dandelion in question and sighs.
"Mindeulle...they may not have the popularity of the rose or inherent pomp of an orchid but dandelions...they are so much more than meets the eye." She sits down next to him, looking fondly at the small sprout. "They are edible, you know, and full of nutritious vitamins and goodies. They endure. You know that they originally were from Earth, or so the history records say. And they would thrive in places you least expect. I've seen wondrous illustrations of them sprouting between pathways of concrete, making their way into gardens where they should be smothered by so many other blooms."
This has piqued the boy's curiosity, but only a bit. He doesn't have any particular feelings about Earth. Why should he want to be named after something with origins so old? Still, he can tell his mother has not finished her empassioned speech. Secretly, he kind of enjoys when she makes these.
"Even more, they inspire such curiosity and hope. I may be a scientist, but I can still appreciate whimsy you know. Such as this." She leans down, gently blows against the seedling and watches as the seeds scatter to the wind. He can still picture the way the wind met her hair, too. "What do you think I wished for?"
The boy shrugged, only vaguely more interested in this than the science. She smiled.
"I'll tell you one day. When it comes true."
His memory blurs again from here, as the boy suddenly gets up, drawing the topic to a close. Min - Mindeulle never heard about the wish. He wonders a lot about it. If it came true. If it didn't, or it will. If she'd wished for something different, whether she would still be here. If he should have appreciated more. If there was something he could have done.
Mostly, he wishes he could just tell her yes, it's a lovely name. That he will make it his own, do his best to represent the hope and the courage of the small plant. As she would have wanted. He hopes that she could be proud, as he is now of his unique name and its inspiration.