Flowers For Mom

When I was a little girl, my two younger brothers would often bring my mother a dirty fistful of wildflowers, which most likely popped up somewhere along the many paths in the neighborhood. My mother treasured every heartfelt bouquet. I remember once after one of the boys got their big kiss and hug, and ran full force back down the stairs to play, she giggled and said her favorite bouquets were the ones with all the earthen clad roots still attached. And she meant it. No occasion. Mo money. No obligation. Just, "I saw these flowers, and you're the only one I thought of." The sweet love of a child for their mother. I appreciated what she meant at the time, but I understood it deeply when I had my own children. Throughout the years, I have been blessed to receive many rooted bouquets. I love and treasure each one more than the last. And I can't walk or drive past wildflowers in vast fields or sidewalk cracks, without thinking of my mom.