Madre

{1996 or thereabouts}

Yellow and purple crocus bloom beneath bay windows in the front yard of the third house on the right on Sapphire. 83621. My mom planted those in the spring of 1991. We had just moved in. Twenty years later, they're still blooming, though someone else lives there now. Crocus and daffodils and tulips; reliable and giving. They come again, year after year.

When I think of my mom, I think of flowers. Sunday afternoons, dresses, summertime. I think of blue eyes. And green gardens and pretty fingers. I think of muted pink nail polish, good books and perms.

I think of ease and kindness. I think of giving. And smiles. And light. And fun. The cookie dough eating, craft making, late-night story reading kind of fun. Ask Morg, she may be the funnest person he knows. It will stay that way for a while, I'm quite sure.