Queen Anne's Lace for my Mother

June 13, 2013

I went out this morning to a spot where I know that my mother's favorite flower blooms wildly. It's called Queen Anne's Lace. As you can see in the picture that I took above, it is a beautiful round, white, lacy thing that sits on top of a sturdy green stem. You can find these wild flowers along the roadside. I have tried digging some up and planting them in my own gardens without much luck. Seeds? Not much luck either. It's as if they want to grow where they want to grow and be free to blow in the wind and look pretty. Dainty. Pure.

So I rode out this morning with a pitcher of water and some scissors to the place where they grow and parked in the hot sun, walked out along the dirt path, and tromped in high weeds to snip some blooms for my mother's grave. I don't like to use the word 'grave' but rather I usually say, "I went out to see mom today" or "I'm going to mom's today to sit and read, or bring flowers . . . ". Grave sounds so grave, so final . . . the end.

It's not.

While I was gathering the flowers, I thought back to the other times when I came out to this spot with my mother or with my mother and father. We would jump in my car after my mom would suggest she'd like some Queen Anne's Lace for her den. So off we'd go like three peas in a pod to make her wish come true. I can still picture my mother's delight as we would walk along the path, and she'd point and say, "that one" and I'd lean over to cut it and hand it back to her and she would put it in the vase she was holding in her hands. The thrill on her face was worth it all. It's not as if these flowers have some sort of vibrant scent or color to make them worth the picking. The opposite.

To see a Queen Ann's Lace is to see my mother. Someone dainty, pure, sweet, not frilly or highly scented but elegant in simplicity. Standing tall in the midst of her surroundings or any pain she had to endure through her life. No thorns.

So here's to you, momma, and remembering you as the time approaches when, a year ago, you fell and life was unendurable. May you know that you are missed every second as time still clicks by on this Earth. May you feel as free and beautiful as the white Queen Anne's Lace that grows wildly and randomly along unpaved roads.

I'm thinking of you.

(c) 6.13.2013