Wednesday, February 13, 2013

What I Remember

I was in the co-op yesterday and I spotted this beautiful bouquet  of peach colored roses, fully unfurled in the arms of a woman. With beautiful long graying hair partially pulled on top of her head in a loose bun, she stood there examining all the flowers on display, smelling each one. She emanated  warmth in her loose, long flowy garments. She had a little smile on her face, she just seemed so content. I asked to smell her flowers and she happily obliged, commenting on the coming of spring before drifting away into a line at the check-out. I almost cried. The encounter stirred some deep memory of my mother. There are those little moments in your memory that connect you to that safe feeling of complete contentment, the ideal of "home". I realized that I most felt loved by my mother when she felt most content with where she was. Standing at the kitchen sink while stewed plums simmered on the stove, laying in a chair peacefully soaking in the sun, walking down a beach or watering the garden. Valentine's Day is tomorrow and I remember one year that my mom sent a heart shaped little chocolate cake to school for me.
  Thoughtfulness and being's just so simple. It's hard to remember sometimes, we feel the need to be so busy but it reminded me of how good those simple ideas are. Those moments last forever.  I'm going to bake heart shaped cookies tomorrow and wear my great grandma's apron.

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