My Mother’s Garden – The 1000 Moms Project

I see her sitting quiet, pensive at the table.
The flowers in the vase capture her attention.
She sits motionless…staring at blooms flush with lavender and pink.

Perhaps she’s back in her garden, tending her own blooms, alive with fragrant vibrancy.

“Mom,” I say, “It’s me.”

Slowly her gaze turns from the flowers and rests upon my face. Quiet recognition or a phantom of the knowledge of who I am?

She smiles.

And reaches for my arm, pulling me close.
An embrace.

No words. Not now. Just a smile.

I pull up a chair and help her eat corned beef on rye.
She touches the table with her fork, tapping it gently.

And laughs. Amused by a funny happenstance from her childhood or mine? Or from her first years of marriage?

I don’t know. I never will.

I love to hear her laughter.

It breaks through heavy quiet, interrupting the thoughts of those nearby. But, I don’t care.

I want her to laugh…to sing, like she always did.

A few bites taken, topped off by a sip of golden peach juice.

And she begins to hum.
The hum becomes words. Melody strong. She looks at me and sings.

“Wise…men…say,” she begins in Pianissimo.
“Only fools rush in,
but I can’t help…falling in love with you.”

She grasps my arm again and I welcome her hug.
Does she know?
Does she know it’s me, the youngest of her two girls?

The thought that one day I won’t hear her sing anymore tears my fleshy heart in two.

Tears are restrained. This is no time for sadness.

It’s a day of music.

I’m content with her love, her laughter and embrace. And a song.
All things she lived each day, as I grew.

Out of dark soil fed with rich nutrients,
showered with love and care,
I’ve become.

A bloom in my mother’s garden of life.

Grown now, a mother myself.

Because of who she was and still is –
a gardener of soil & life –
tending constantly & consistently in her relentless faith,
I’ve become.

I am grateful.

Thank you, Mom. You are much loved.

Happy Mother’s Day!