11. Seven weeks later you’ll wander into your mother’s guest room looking for something. Sitting in the alcove under the east window are nine plants. Wilted, dropping leaves, forgotten. Drooping with devastating disappointment.
The flower gardens, the winter-tough deck plants, they’ve received your loving care since before your mom died. But these plants? Your mother placed them inside for the winter several months ago. Out of sight out during your many visits. Now you’ll understand why the deck looked eerily empty of her usual plant jungle.
You’ll wonder how you could have forgotten. She’s had the same routine with those plants for years.
12. A friend will invite you for an early spring walk. The goslings will enchant your broken heart. As the gander hisses his warning, you’ll envy the simplicity of the goose.
13. Early on a school morning, while making breakfast for your family, first cup of coffee in hand, The Beatles “Here Comes the Sun” will play. You’ll cry.
14. Another friend will leave brilliant yellow Ranunculus on your porch. “Happy Spring” makes you smile. You’ll plant one of them in a chair flowerpot by your mom’s front door. You’ll cry again.
15. Another friend will call on Easter. She lost her mom, too. She knows. You know. You’ll thank whomever your higher power is for your friends.
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In case you are wondering, “YES” there’s more to come.
As always, thank you for visiting! Feel free to like, comment, share, follow my journey or re-blog as your heart and mind desire. Namaste