We traipsed out to the Lilac Bush, near the road. Mom, with a sharp knife in her hand, me with scissors, Steph with sandals that blink with each step, and Sam running ahead then stopping to inspect something on the ground.
It is the same journey I’ve made for years, ever since I could toddle out, following in my mom’s footsteps. Every Spring, we would cut fresh lilacs for our house, and once I was older, for my teachers. . I took Lilacs to school long after I should have stopped bringing gifts to the teacher. Today, though, I’m sure there are secondary teachers who were thankful for the bouquets. I would come home from college to smell the Lilacs. Once I started my career, I brought bouquets in for special colleagues
We arrived at the bush, Lilacs hanging down high above our heads. We started cutting. Sam and Steph collected the flowers, sniffing in the sweet scent. With both Mom and me cutting, the size of the bouquet quickly got out of control. I stashed the flowers in the car and took them home.
At home, during nap time, I arranged the flowers into four vases. Two of the vases for my daughters’ rooms. It was then that it hit me. My mom did the same for me years ago. As the sweet scent of Lilacs filled my home and my nose I was face to face with the circle of parenting. If only I can be the kind of mother mine was to me, perhaps I’ll be successful.
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