My world now includes a
white carnation on Mother’s Day.
If you grew up in
church that recognized mothers the second Sunday in May, you are probably
familiar with the tradition of red and white flowers. As a girl, I remember
women wearing corsages to church, red if their mother was living; white if she
had passed away. Carnations were given away to the youngest mom, the oldest
mother and the one with the most children. It seemed like we could always
predict who was going to get the flower, but sometimes we had a visitor that
surprised us. It was a day that we dressed up and worked on good behavior to
make our moms proud. Our momma would
work hard to prepare a big dinner for her
mom (and dad, of course) and as the years passed the cycle continued. It was
about being together as a family. It was about showing appreciation to our
mother.
Out on Cowskin Prairie,
on the Triple R Ranch, we didn’t spend a lot of time at the florist ordering
corsages. When I was big enough to understand the tradition, I remember going
out to Mom’s peony bush in the corner of the yard and picking off the biggest
pink peony I could find. Mom loved to grow flowers, but she wasn’t one to cut
or make an arrangement. She liked them in the yard. Where ever they came up and
bloomed was her bouquet. Sister and I learned that an occasional Sweet William from the ditch, or a
dandelion was Momma’s choice, and so we left her roses, iris and peonies alone.
But I remember that big peony, about the size of a plate. I realize now it was
way too large to be worn as a corsage. But Mom took that big blossom and pulled
a couple of pins from her pincushion. She fixed that giant peony to her collar.
I was so proud.
Maybe it was the choir.
Maybe it was the organ music. Maybe it was my Daddy’s Hai-Karate after-shave. But… there were ants in the peony. And
sometime before the offering, those little pests started filing out of those piles
of pink petals onto Mother’s dress front. I’m not sure if they had a plan for
their travel, but by the time she noticed them and started swatting at them,
they had covered quite a bit of territory. I was sitting to her left, on the
peony side, and I tried to pinch a few stragglers myself. Mom didn’t bolt from
the pew. She didn’t yank off the flower in disgust. She just eliminated the
trouble, straightened her collar, lifted her chin and belted out the next verse
of “One Day at a Time.” (OK, I made
the song memory up, but that was her favorite.)
I miss her. I miss
that, “Well, I’ll just take care of that...” attitude that she operated with.
She didn’t whine, she didn’t do drama, she didn’t feel sorry for herself or for
us. She just did. She was a momma that I appreciate now, more than ever.
Pin that peony on now,
friends, and celebrate your mother. There will be white flowers all too soon.
