Sunday, June 6, 2010

Blue Sunday

Today is our first hot day of the season - 89 degrees.  I'm not ready to jump into summer quite yet, but no one checked with me first, so we're off and running.  

After sitting in the sun and reading snippets of books and blogs, B-man suggests we drive to my office and replace the tulips with an arrangement of irises.  As soon as I see them, I cry.

Grief is a very strange thing.  

One minute, I'm sailing along, functioning as if Mom didn't get sick and die in February.  The next minute, I'm remembering how much she loved the hill of irises she planted in our yard.  Each year, they returned, stunning and dramatic, perfuming the breeze of early summer.

For a moment, I consider wearing Hiris by Hermes to enhance the experience.  Instead, I allow memories of my mother to flood my senses uninterrupted.

No perfume today.


  1. oh I'm so sorry for the loss of your mother. *very warm hugs*

  2. Thank you for your kind words and *warm hugs*

    Brighter days are ahead.

  3. Yes. No perfume.

    I think I've caught up on your entries, so I appreciate the dual processes you are chronicling here. And you are doing a lovely job.

    Summer comes with or without invitation. As does the break in the grief, the redialing of the grief.

    Irises will come back. Summer will go. Hiris will have a moment later.

    Thank you for letting us follow you here.

  4. Thank you for your lovely comment - I really appreciate you visiting and giving me your feedback.



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