Spring Flowers

The lilies of the valley are blooming and as I write this, their fragrant perfume is wafting in through the dining room window. It reminds me of Mom.

Mom had two partially raised gardens at the edge of our backyard. Each were level with the closest edge of the yard, but the yard dropped to a hill, so the gardens were built up at the sides, as well as at the back. Along the left side of the left garden, were a few large clay bricks which formed seldom used steps, separated from the garden wall by only a few inches. In this small patch grew lilies of the valley.

On a spring morning long ago, while waiting for my afternoon kindergarten to begin, I remember walking up and down the steps, smelling the flowers as I paced. I remember the morning dew dropping off the lilies as I picked them, then combining them with a few stray violets and not-so-stray dandelions which I scavenged from our so-called lawn.

I presented this arrangement to Mom and watched as she placed them in a small drinking glass, filled the glass with water and set the arrangement in the center of the kitchen table.

And I remember quietly standing there with Mom, her hand on my shoulder, both of us silently admiring the lovely bouquet. I remember feeling pretty good about this, proud and not wanting the moment to end.

The flowers, after all, looked beautiful.