Finding a Four-Leaf Clover

My daughter is seven and has been searching for a four-leaf clover in our backyard every day since she learned they existed. Every single day. For two years.

She'd come inside with grass stains on her knees and say, "Not today." I told her they were very rare. She said, "That's why I'm looking."

This summer, on a Saturday afternoon, she came running into the kitchen screaming so loud I dropped a plate. She was holding a tiny green four-leaf clover between two fingers like it was a diamond.

She pressed it between the pages of her favorite book. She told everyone she knew: her teacher, her grandparents, the mailman. She wrote about it in her journal: "Today I found luck."

She's still looking for another one. "Maybe there's a five-leaf one," she says.