Mom comes today.  I slept great last night.  Her room is arranged.  I’ll bring in a vase of Black-eyed Susans that popped up in a flower bed down hill from where they were originally planted.  She will smile when she sees the flowers.  I will smile when I see her.

Her huge yard was full of bright pink Azaleas and various colors of Day Lilies.  She had some deep yellow Day Lilies  that my sister used for her wedding flowers.  Mom and other ladies from Chumuckla Methodist Church arranged them in white wicker baskets on a stand.  They were stunning behind the bride and groom in 1972.

When she can, Mom spends much of her time outside.  She sits on our deck or out front in the driveway.  Lately, she has wanted me to park in the drive facing the woods, while she stays in the car for a little while after we arrive home from our errands.  I leave all the windows down, find a shady spot and take her a glass of ice water.  Though she cannot speak, the look of contentment on her face tells me she is enjoying looking at the trees, shrubs and flowers.  I wonder if she is thinking about her garden, all the years of digging in the dirt, pulling the weeds, watering all that was in need.

Coming from Florida today, she is like the Black-Eyed Susans, transplanted from her original home there to another area.  As always, she will make the best of it, smiling and blooming where she is planted.  I hope I can remember to be as gracious as I journey down the garden path.


One thought on “Blooming

  1. This is a sweet story. I was wondering if anyone else had heard of Chumuckla, other than someone from Chumuckla. I just posted on my blog, speakingamericanese, my view of Chumuckla. I wonder if your mother knows any of my family?

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