In red.
They would show up like clockwork on the door step on Saturday so we could wear them to church on Sunday.
My Mom would be giddy like a schoolgirl when they arrived, and she'd
half watch the driveway until they did, and if they were late, I think
she fretted a little that he had forgotten... but he never did.
He'd come home-- I can see him in his postal uniform-- a coy look on his face, and she'd always give him a peck on the cheek and tell him how beautiful the flowers were...
My Dad died in 1993. He died on my Mom's birthday. January 5th. And when Mother's Day came that year, I could not fathom the thought of her not having her corsage.
So... I started to buy them for her.
Red, just as before, as long as her Mom was alive. Then white, as is the tradition, after our Maw Maw passed away...
And so it was for years. The corsage would come. Mom would proudly wear it to church, and to work, out to lunch too since my brother always took her.
I know it made her feel special, and of course she was... I know it also made her think of my Dad.
And at the end of the weekend, the little corsage would be unpinned and take it's place of honor on her mirror in the bedroom--The antique vanity that had been given to them as a wedding gift-- crowning it like a halo...
Her little home is mostly silent now, still as if she were about to walk in the door, pregnant with her absence, and yet there still is a lingering essence of her ...
And in her room, all in a row, 25 little corsages, that this year will not be joined by another.
He'd come home-- I can see him in his postal uniform-- a coy look on his face, and she'd always give him a peck on the cheek and tell him how beautiful the flowers were...
My Dad died in 1993. He died on my Mom's birthday. January 5th. And when Mother's Day came that year, I could not fathom the thought of her not having her corsage.
So... I started to buy them for her.
Red, just as before, as long as her Mom was alive. Then white, as is the tradition, after our Maw Maw passed away...
And so it was for years. The corsage would come. Mom would proudly wear it to church, and to work, out to lunch too since my brother always took her.
I know it made her feel special, and of course she was... I know it also made her think of my Dad.
And at the end of the weekend, the little corsage would be unpinned and take it's place of honor on her mirror in the bedroom--The antique vanity that had been given to them as a wedding gift-- crowning it like a halo...
Her little home is mostly silent now, still as if she were about to walk in the door, pregnant with her absence, and yet there still is a lingering essence of her ...
No comments:
Post a Comment