Amongst the items on the brocante dealer's stand was a wooden frame with an image of a little girl holding flowers. As I admired the hand carved wooden frame, the dealer asked me, "Are you a collector of "Poilus objects" ?" Looking up, I gave him a look that indicated that I had no idea what he was talking about.
"Poilus?" I asked, "I know it has something to do with facial hair… but other than that, I don't have a clue as to what Poilus objects are."
The dealer went on to tell me that "Poilus" were infantrymen during WWI (1914-1918) who while in the trenches made small crafts for their loved ones as they endure life in the trenches.
(Poilus literally means: "Hairy ones", a nickname for infantrymen who didn't shave, and or who were farm boys.)
As the dealer spoke of the Poilus and their art/craft, I imagined the father (of the little girl in the photo) carving a frame for his daughter, from a piece of a Linden branch that covered the trench that he was in… Holding the Linden wood frame in my hands, I felt the hope he must have gathered when he carved the frame for his little girl.
In the distance, far from the trenches, far from his embrace, his little girl collected wild flowers. One by one, the prettiest ones. As her mother went about her daily chores.
Wild flowers that grew nearby, wild flowers with perfume floating across the miles, connecting their lives to his.
I could see the little girl tugging at her mother's apron, telling her she was collecting wild flowers for her daddy. Her mother smiled, then caressed her daughter's head knowing her gesture did not give her sadness away, instead the daughter twirled around with her loosely gathered bouquet, and then ran to gather more for her daddy.
In the evening, when the little girl was fast asleep, and before the mother washed the dinner dishes, she gathered some petals from the wild flowers left on the kitchen table, and stuck them in her apron pocket.
Later she would tuck them into a letter before sending it off to her husband.
The brocante dealer showed me other pieces of Poilus creations from the trenches, but none of them struck me as the Linden wood frame with the image of the little girl holding flowers.
I bought it.
When I arrived home I took the frame out to find three small flower petals between the image of the little girl and the frame.
Who knows if the father saw his little girl again, but one thing is certain… The wild flower petals, and the little girl's image remain together in a frame carved by her father's loving hands.
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