Happy Thirty-two Years of being a great mother.

Hydrangea days:

My mother learned how to be a mother from her father. He was the person who raised her. She learned as she went along. Being in Jamaica when she had her first two children there wasn’t much offered to her when it came to help. She kept it simple. Just like planting Hydrangeas, she never complicated her mothering skills.

Rose days:

My mother was and still is as beautiful as a rose bush. But like a rose is pretty there are those thorns to ward off unwanted interferences. My mother did not play when it came to raising her children. Don’t let her beauty fool you, she was strict. Lord, I pity the fool who messed with any of her children. It wasn’t a pretty sight at all.

Bougainvillea days:

Our mother did such a good job raising us; we cling on and wrap ourselves around her. In this I believe we are truly worse than a bougainvillea vine. We also are very protective of her, hence the thorns of the plant. We weren’t the only ones who clung to her, our friends did too. I had a friend whose mother worked late evenings and she and her sister would come to our house around dinner time. Even though there really wasn’t enough for them to eat, my mother would give them her plate and do without. She was unselfish like that all the time.

Impatiens days:

I remember a time when we would go shopping with my mother, and my older brother and younger sister would start fighting. My mother would return everything to the shelf and head for home. She never said anything, but they got in trouble once we reached the house. She was very patient. Impatiens would explode when touched, hence the other name they were known as, “touch-me-nots.” The other name I would give my mother would be, “test-me-not.” She wasn’t a pushover.

Peace Lily days:

My mother was always trying to keep the peace in the household. After we grew up and went our separate ways, to this day she believes she needs to keep us abreast of what’s going on in each other’s world. Even though at one point none of us really showed any interest, she still kept us connected. Her persistence paid off the end of last year. Now we keep in contact without her help.

I bet you’re wondering what is with the flower names? It’s quite simple actually. My mother loves planting. You wouldn’t be able to tell from looking at a woman who can’t go to the grocery store without her make-up that she loves to have her hands in the soil. Growing up, she was always planting vegetables and her beautiful flower gardens. Even when there was a minimal amount of space, she found a way to have her flowers. Anything she touched grew up strong; flowers and children alike.