Sweet Fragrance

We had blossoming cherry trees in our backyard when I was a little girl. And flowers galore. Coral bells. A hidden little patch of violets. I remember picking and presenting blossoms to my mother on a regular basis. Mom always made a big deal about my little bouquets. Sometimes she'd sing:

White coral bells upon a slender stock

Lily of the valley deck my garden walk

Oh, don't you wish that you could hear them ring

That will happen only when the angels sing

Always, she'd smell my flowers (violets were her favorite, I brought those most often) and place them carefully inside a tiny vase. I don't know where she got all those small vases. She must have had a dozen of them. And I hadn't thought about them in years - not until one afternoon last spring when Lucy burst in the door of my mother's kitchen, her hands full of tiny flowers from Grandpa's garden.

"Here, Mom!" she said to me proudly.

It wasn't the first time Lucy had brought me flowers. But her offering seemed different that afternoon when it was arranged in one of Grandma's small vases. It seemed a little like a legacy.

My heart swelled with happy nostalgia and I mentioned my memories to Mom - all those violets in tiny vases by the kitchen sink. She nodded, her eyes glistening. Before I left that day, she slipped one of her little vases into my hands.

She knew I'd need it.

Oh Mother, I give you my love with each flower

To give forth sweet fragrance a whole lifetime through

For if I love blossoms and meadows and walking,

I learned how to love them, dear Mother, from you.

Phyllis Luch

Sweet fragrance.
A sweet legacy.
So much love.

Happy Mother's Day!