|Flowers mean love in any language.|
"Monada, Bee Balm." I replied telling her its path to my garden. She pointed to yet another.
"Lsymachia, Alexander." I said proudly. I had only just gotten it and it was my favorite until of course I got something else to replace it as favorite. I'm funny that way.
"Are you making these up?" she asked skeptically. "It sounds like you're introducing me to your friends."
This got me to thinking, a dangerous thing, I know but still, one must think sometimes.
"Well, yes, they are a sort of friend." I told her as I showed her my patch of pale yellow bearded iris. "See these? I got those from my friend Wendy. Now every time I see them in bloom I think of the way she used to tease my husband's no-nonsense coaching style."
"Hit the ball!" Tommy would say when one of the girls on the softball team was up to bat.
"Wow, Tom. Where did you come up with that strategy?" Wendy said with a mischievous grin.
"I remember that every single time I see those flowers blooming. It's almost like still having her here." I said.
I moved to another bed and pointed to the huge patch of Lily-of-the-valley. "I got those from Monica. She needed them out because she was expanding her house so I came and dig them out for her. Now every time I smell their heavenly scent in the spring I think of her."
I then showed her my rampant patch of spearmint, plucked a leaf off and handed it to her. "I got a tiny little sprig of that from my uncle's garden. Each time I pluck a leaf and stick it into my iced tea I think of him."
This went on and on. The sedum I got from Tom's best friend's grandmother, the philodendron I got from my mother, the sundrops and carpet bugle I got from an elderly German couple from up the road, the cannas I got from my editor, the hollyhocks I got from a friend that was no more. Oh, she's still alive but we are no longer friends. The hollyhock only reminds me of when we were friends, the good times. My garden is a testament to many relationships I've had over the years.
As we walked around the house pausing for a story about each plant she smiled and said, "It's like a photo album only instead of pictures you got flowers. Nifty!" She bent down and smelled a rose. "These were my brother's favorites. He died last night."
I immediately embraced her and held her as she cried. I cried too. The next day I went to her house with a potted rose bush and planted it by her front steps. I left a note telling her she would always have her brother with her every time the rose bloomed.
She called me that night and thanked me but she told me something endearing to my heart. "I will remember my brother always when I see the rose but I'll also remember my good friend who gave me something I'll never forget."
Flowers equals friends. I highly recommend them both.