Uphill idealist

Here written is a parable I wrote a few years ago based on the parable of the Prodigal Son. This is an updated version (originally posted in 2007) --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I remember the day that Mr. G's youngest son left to make a life for himself away from the family farm. Our family had worked for Mr. G even before I was born, so my memories of him and his two boys farming together were an extension of my own family life. I honestly can't remember Mr. G's boys not being a part of my life. Every morning, it was my job to collect water from the well for morning household chores. As I carefully carried gallons of fresh water in the bucket upon my head, Mr. G would smile and greet me saying, "Here you go. “, and place a fresh-plucked flower from his own flower bed behind my ear.” A daisy for my day-star!” he would say on his way out to do his work. Mr. G had planted many different wild flowers in his f