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Mommeee ! Mommeeee !!! Mommy, I brought you something !!
As I edge the door open I had not anticipate seeing my child standing with a small bouquet of flowers clutched in his little hand. A bouquet which he had picked from my flower bed but one he had picked for me with great love in his little heart. True to my anticipation he was standing with head bowed looking at his offering and waiting for me to open the door and comment upon his gift. There stood my Angel in rumbled blue jeans with grass stain on his knees; tale, tale signs of a trickle of sweat mixed with the dust which has settled on his face leaving a small dirty smudge where his little hand reached up and wiped. Oh !! My Angel stood looking up through lashes, a small upward tilt to his lips, the beginning of a smile that would melt an artic glacier, eyes so blue they twinkled like a million stars in the nightime sky.
"Here Mommy, I got these for you", said my little one.
Reaching out to accept his lovely gift I ask, "Where did you get these, Sweetie."
"Over there, you know Mommy, by the wall where you put them to grow." A big smile of pride on his face because he had brought his Mommy a gift and she had smiled at him.
I had not the heart to scold him, flowers grow each year but sharp words will cause love to wither and die. As I reached down and accepted his gift, putting my arms around him and saying,"Thank you, Angel", all the while hearing my grandmother say, "Give me my flowers while I live".
That bouquet began a lifetime of flowers from my children. I had one beautiful rose that God plucked before I ever had the chance to hold it, but God gave me two beautiful baby boys to hold. One, my fair haired angelic babe and one, my raven haired darling. Each loved to pick flowers for me and I thrilled to reach out and take them. I taught them never to pick anyone elses flowers but if Mommy had them and said they could it was alright. So my life has been a continuous gift of flowers through the summer months from my sons. They would pick a rose and bring it to me or something as simple as a dandelion has occupied the vile that sits on my kitchen island. The dandelion held as much importance as the rose because it was given me with as much love as the rose. Do not mistaken the importence of such a small and insufficient little flower. Children love them, Mother adore them because their child brings them to her as a gift. Bouquets from the heart of a child lives on in the minds of Mothers. Never, Never to be forgotten. How many hugs have I stolen when presented with the bloom of a four leaf clover? Hugs from my children with the smell of sun on their skin and the taste of salt on my lips after I kissed them.
The years may change a mother's features but the heart always remains the same. We love our children with the love we had the day they were first placed in our arms. We still have the instinct to shelter, protect, and love them unconditionally. If they hurt, we hurt and if they are happy, we are estatic with happiness. They are the true Bouquets of our lives. It never changes in our heart ! Our lives change with the aging of our children, the births of our grandchildren, the loss of parents, the grief of seeing a spouse in pain but God makes all things right when we are held closely by our children, or a grandchild is placed in our arms for the first time or the tenth time. Life, children to love, little arms to surround us again. More Bouquets to be brought by little ones to us and the laughter of a child in the house again. How blessed can a mother be?
I now have two grandsons, David and Derek. Derek, my older grandson, became aware of the flower vile on my Kitchen island last year. I looked up to see him walking briskly toward me with a little fist curled around a small "bouquet" of flowers and say "Here Nana, I got these for you." I reached out, lovingly took my treasure, dandelions. They took their stately place in the vile for nearly a week before they finally began to nod their heads, one by one, to the world. By this time Derek realized Nana loved flowers and while with me the following week he came proudly to me offering a beautiful golden yellow daisy with a black center. Yes, it took it place this time in the vile but it seem so lonely that we added two more to keep it company. I'm so glad my mom and grandmother taught me to plant perennials, they multiply and come up each year without any work and now Derek has his supply of Daisies for each week. My viles are never empty nor is my heart or my arms. Derek and David feel both my arms so completely and so lovingly. I am waiting to see which flower David will choose when he is old enough to bring me his bouquet. Funny how grandchildren become the sons and daughters that are grown, whom we can no long hold on our laps but only in our hearts. Yes, Once a Mother always a Mother !
Oh !! The Memories, How they come trailing into the mind of a mother after a babe is grown. How the sweet smell of the babe lingers in you memory and the feel of little hands reaching for you still remains engrained in your mind. Smiles, giggles, and "I luv you" lingers in your ears long after your baby is a grown man. Now their arms hold me when I cry and they give me their shoulder to lean upon when I hurt and anguish surrounds me. Loving arms still surround me with a deep laugh rumbling in their throats which makes me smile. They never grow too old to bend down and lay a head on my shoulder when they feel the need to share a tender moment. How blessed can one woman be, this Mother who loves her sons with an undying love, who thinks of them each day with loving thoughts and wonders what her life would have been without their "Bouquets" of tender love.
We, Mothers, are termed fragil but ours are the hands that rocks the cradle from birth to the grave. The hands that reaches forth to wipe the tears from her child eyes, that smoothes a fevered brow, or lovingly pats the back of the child while he cries. Yes, all that and more. We eagerly stretch forth hands to lovingly accept our wonderful "Bouquets" of Love from our children's hands. However large or small the offering, a Mother's heart is always overwhelmingly flooded with her love for her children. You are our Bouquets !
Your smiles, your love, your laughter, and your strength all gathered together and tied up with the strings of our heart.
Yes, the older I get the more I agree with Grandma, "Give me my flowers while I live".
Lovingly Dedicated to my Sons
Chuck & Kirk
Copyright © 2001 – Peggie S. Williams
All Rights Reserved
 
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