Wildflower Bouquet

Little things J does remind my why I am grateful for motherhood. Some mornings she feeds me one heart shaped cereal “Because I love you” – just a small token to remind me of her affection. In the evening when I go to pick her up from after-school care, she comes running across the field, her face shining bright. Some days, she has in her hand a clump of wild flowers she has gathered for me. I am not sure where and how I can preserve these treasures from heaven.

She puts them in a glass of water and sets it on the window-sill of my room. I can imagine myself in my twilight years thinking back about this time fondly. I would see the gap toothed smile on her face as she hands me the flowers “I gathered specially for Mommy” – I would see her green floral printed skirt with sea green top, tired at day’s end and so relieved to see me. Like a wave through a sea of green she comes rushing headlong into my awaiting arms. I pick her up, she wraps her arms around my neck - that moment is always perfect.

This is the time of day we both look forward to equally – the day’s battles are done and buglers of fate play the beating retreat. We have to brace up for whatever the next day might bring and the next mostly without end. Yes, sometimes we pause and take a break but there is a certain monotony to our lives that a beach trip or a brief holiday does not completely break. The daily grind is assured of our return to it - there is no real escape.

In my dreams I reinvent myself - turn somewhat reckless maybe, give myself a new life and a new country to call home, pace the days much slower. In my dreams, J rushes to me with a bouquet of wildflowers in her hand, the arc of her smile brighter than the sun shining in her hair. In my dream that moment lasts forever or maybe I want it to.