Flowers From Mom

As a child, I remember my mother always being in our yard picking flowers for our table. As time passed and Alzheimer’s took her memory, that was still the one thing she continued doing.

It was Springtime. The weather was a little brisk but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I pulled up to the curb in front of the house and there was Mom picking up sticks. In her left hand is where she holds on to the growing bunch she’s collecting. As I approach her, she stretches her left hand to me with the biggest smile on her face. “Here” she says, “I picked these especially for you. Aren’t they beautiful?” I take them from her hand and as the tears trickle down my face, I smell the sticks and state that they are beautiful. They smell so sweet and fresh!

Those “flowers” stayed in my car, all neatly bundled, for over two years.

— Sent in from Marcia

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