My mother bought a house next door to me in West Blocton many years ago.
I paid 32,000 for mine and hers was similarly priced. You can picture the simplicity.
We lived slowly and simply and we liked it that way.
I still do.
One spring, she decided to pay someone to landscape her yard.
I remember being so frustrated that she was spending that kind of money on her yard. I could think of so many things that house needed other than flowers.
(And yes, I know that is very ironic considering my current love affair with all things green and blooming.)
But thankfully Mother didn’t listen to my opposition any more than I do most of the time to my children.
There is some type of sweet beauty in our past disagreements. No anger. Mostly a nostalgic mix of feelings where my memories comfort me with love, forgiveness and finally an understanding.
I would give absolutely anything for Mother to have lived long enough to see my life now. I am sure she would laugh at what I spent on just gardenias and hydrangeas last year. Not to mention birdseed.
I have a daughter that reminds me regularly of the relationship we had. Sometimes we are in agreement but we still seem to be arguing.
And I remember Daddy looking at me and saying, “I wish my Mother could have met you.” I now understand how he felt.
It is puzzling and painful how that understanding only seemed to happen with my parents absence.
I comfort myself with the fact that I can see my parents in both my children and grandchildren. Mother could be so kind and compassionate. Daddy could be so tender hearted and humble.
I lost Mother 5 years ago and one spring after losing her Daddy said, “look at that tree”. I smiled and told him Mother planted it. He did not remember it but I could tell he liked that.
It is funny what memories you leave with your family. The value of them is much more priceless than possessions.
Just like with me, not a spring goes by that I don’t drive by that old house and thank my Mother for not listening…