It’s another rainy day here
in the country--placing all outdoor planting chores on hold. But it is a good day for tending to
dreams and plans for Mothers Day. Instead of measuring the day by the sun and
checking the clock, I’ll savor the possibilities of this given time with
remembrance.
One Mother’s Day, long before
we moved here, when our country life was still in the planning, we made a
promise to plant two special trees for our mothers and name them Julia and
Molly. Every year afterwards, we’ll plant flowers around the two for honor and
remembrance. Plaques with their names will read, “In loving memory of Julia and
Molly.” We can’t imagine our life
without them or without trees.
The newly planted trees are
still quite young but growing strong. Molly is a Red Maple and it is the tree
my mother saw as she left the house each day. Julia is a Pink Dogwood that Don
chose for its beautiful buds that will be opening soon. They still await their
dressing of flowers below and a naming ceremony.
Franz Kafka said, “ Writing
is the most personal form of prayer.”
Today, a few days before Mothers Day, We remember our mothers as the
rain waters our trees for us and we wait for the sun to do its magic.
Hi Margaret, I kind of do the same for my Mom, only I erect and decorate her Christmas tree every year. I promised her before she died that I would place a Christmas tree on her grave each year, but that was before destiny took me several hundred miles...or almost six hours away...to a new life with my soulmate. Her Christmas tree now decorates the hospice gift shop every year. Skip
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