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Today's poem or short story prompt is the word "flower"
Flowers were a part of my grandmother. She didn't just grow or buy them, they came to her. Like a friend or a regular visitor, flowers weaved into every part of her life. Blue Hydrangeas grew next to the house. The three-story home built late in the 18th century and purchased by her mother as her first step out of servitude as an Irish immigrant maid. I don't know if she planted the hydrangeas, but she tended them and they tended her. How much work it must have taken to turn them blue in the days before you could add a chemical to the soil.
ReplyDeleteMy grandmother could have been no more connected to her ancestors than the twice weekly trip to St. Mary's Cemetery. There she'd visit her brothers (three that had died before age 20), her mother, her father and various other relatives. Carey. Finn. Lally. I'd ask about them every time I helped her dead head the marigolds,geraniums, pansies and petunias. I would forget their names and stories but I'd remember their flower. Carey and red geransiums. Finn and pink petunias. Lally and pansies in the spring and marigolds in the fall. Such care for her loved one's dead home. I didn't know cemeteries were sad places then. I was six and she was sixty and I enjoyed the cemetery visits almost as much as I did a coke at the drug store counter.
I love the last 2 lines.
DeleteFLOWERS
ReplyDeleteYou might find this helpful:
Chocolate is for
lifting spirits and
sharing good times
Jewelry is for
special occasions
Flower are for
trying to gracefully
back out
of what I heard you say
last night.
- Mike Fedel
April, 2013