My "baby" girl forgot to give me the Mother's Day gift she made in school. Like many moms, these handmade gifts are my absolute favorite and I cherish every treasure my children has created for me! To back up...last year, my daughter was very reluctant to hand over the gift she'd made in school. When I had sufficiently assured her that I would love whatever she'd made, she gave me the wrapped present. As soon as I opened it, I understood the reason for her hesitancy. There, in a carefully painted terra cotta pot, was....a bunch of dirt. Evidently, Caroline's were the only seeds that failed to grow. The teacher tried to convince my stubborn offspring to swap plants for one that was showing signs of life. Caroline, apparently, refused and stood her ground. The teacher (who was a beastly woman on a good day) told my daughter that it was "stupid" to give someone a container of dirt for a gift and she should be "embarrassed" to do so. That was all my will-of-steel girl needed to dig her heels in harder and deeper. Those were the seeds she had planted for me and those were the seeds I was going to get...end of discussion! It took a few weeks, but the seeds did start to grow and, by the end of the summer, we had mutant sunflowers and marigolds the size of cauliflower heads taking over my side garden! I, of course, took several pictures, mounted them on poster board and marched them in (myself) to my daughter's classroom. I had stencilled, in huge black letters, "HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL!". I insisted that the teacher hang the poster in the front of the class and my baby was vindicated.
No such drama surrounding this year's gift. Caroline used beautiful, vibrant fabric scraps to decoupage the container of pretty yellow marigolds. She made me a precious "My Mom..." book and all is right in our world!
Since I added a picture of the rose bush, to my blog, the least it deserves is the accompanying story behind it. One of my best friends gave me a small, potted rose bush on a particularly difficult birthday. She instructed me to plant it outside, after I had enjoyed it during the summer months. I did as I was told...a rare occurrence...and thought no more of my pretty little plant. For reasons that are of no significance today, my friend and I had a major falling out, which resulted in nearly a year of isolation from each other. Suddenly, I became acutely aware (during the fall & winter months) of that rose bush, which was planted right outside of my condo. Barren & gray, it seemed to snarl at me each time we crossed paths. "Nasty, ugly, dead thing" I thought as I, ridiculously, tried to avoid making eye/ thorn contact: "I should just dig you up and toss you in the dumpster". I didn't. The fact is, I couldn't.
Fall turned to winter and winter turned to spring. As the crocus popped through the still-cold soil and the other obediently perennials followed suit, there sat that stupid rose bush: gnarled and unsightly, with an air of bitter defiance. One morning, in early May I noticed a bit of life emanating from the bush. There was nothing botanically definable: it just looked....I don't know how else to say it...hopeful. Over the course of the next few weeks, the plant continued its slow, but consistent awakening. The stems turned from gray to an ashen green and the tips of a few, tiny leaves poked through. I'm not certain exactly how long after that, the "accidental email" went out, but I do recall forwarding something to a mass of people and...much to my chagrin...included my ex-friend, on the list. I was furious with myself for such a slip of the finger, as I had vowed to never grace her with my presence again. Within minutes, she replied with a very timid, innocuous "Thank you" email. That was all it took for me to remember all the things that glued our hearts together. I'm afraid I might lose my less-sentimental reader(s), if I continue with this Hallmark card description. Suffice it to say, we re-connected, resolved the issues that had caused the rift and our friendship still stands the tests of time and discord.
"What about the bush?", you might be asking.
The rose bush went...overnight...into full bloom. The day after the reconciliation, that silly, stubborn plant was covered in perfect, red roses. True story? 100%, absolutely no embellishing, exaggerating necessary!
