Thursday, May 13, 2021

A Gift From My Mom

I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death. 
They continue to participate in every act, thought, and decision we make.
-Leo Buscaglia

https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=1aRA_XXin4gdu2ORsfvF-NtpoovVPR59w

For Mother's Day this year, my mom bought me this plant.

Oh, I know. She's been gone almost five years now. 

Gone in a physical sense, that is.

But her voice inside of me is alive and well, thank you very much, and speaks out to me more clearly than ever.

https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=12cAxDZFoqb7TYmU1ws-bksdA2aVPajo1

Of course, it would be nice to communicate with her on human terms, but I'm not complaining. To be honest, I feel closer to my mom now that she's an eternal being, as if the static from a poorly tuned radio has finally been adjusted and the reception is crystal clear. 

And while I feel, in an indistinct, hazy, spiritual kind of way, that she and I are still very much connected and moving along together, there are times when I'd like to cement that sensation in a tangible, physical kind of way.

Now some people report that their dearly beloved ones leave them dimes or feathers, lead them to butterflies, or even appear as visions. And I believe that all those manifestations are real, though my mom has never chosen to communicate with me that way.

Instead, my mom buys me gifts. 

https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=1VO8Zm31X3OASXkRUSKJsSsQdkTBu1CPu

Oh yes, she does. 

https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=1AgSviGRlzwbsAIP413WGdopsTtM4xB8_

It happened again this past week, just a few days before Mother's Day.

As my third and fourth daughters and I wandered around the indoor plant displays at Sky Nursery, I saw a hundred leafy lovelies and pretty planters that I wouldn't be mad about getting, but nothing really caught my eye. Shocked - and thankful to be getting out of there without spending a fortune for once -I sidelined myself into an alcove crammed with basic, boring terracotta pots to wait for my daughters to finish their shopping. I figured I was safe there from any further temptation. 

But what I didn't know was that tucked back behind the predictable rows of conventionally-shaped orangey-brown numbers was a vision waiting for me to happen upon it.

White,
textured,
patterned with circles and ovals, 
dancing around a happy shape,

the most beautifully perfect pot I've seen in quite some time. 

Picking it up and turning it round in my hands, I read a satisfying seventies vibe, and caught a flash of those years of growing power and success in my mom's life. 

I felt my mom's presence.

Carrying the pot in my arms, I headed back toward my daughters, who were still browsing, and asked their opinion. 

"Yes," my fourth born confirmed. "It's very you."

Now my attention tuned to finding a plant that spoke to the pot. 

A plant that would also speak of my mom.

And again, my fourth-born readily tuned into my wavelength.

"What about this one?" she suggested, holding up a darling schefflera arboricola. I gasped. 

My daughter had no way of knowing that for many years, my mom grew a huge schefflera arboricola in our front entry way, one of the few spaces in our eccentric little lake house that gave her a genuine sense of pride. 

It was the perfect plant for the perfect pot, and when I set the two together to get a glimpse of the total effect, I fairly vibrated with certainty.

https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=1o47WUZYmAdGTYgNRrjUvbWbqsUjjaGqN

This was a gift from my mom.

And I love it, in so many ways. Thanks, Mom!

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