It was a bright and sunny day yesterday in the Big Apple with temperatures in the mid-60s plummeting to 40s in the evening. Spring is beginning to show itself. I was bicycling in Central Park, this is the best time as it offers a breathtaking view of the multicolored tulips and the cherry tree along park avenue.
I stopped at the florist in the corner of the road. It seems like he has been here eternally and is part of the landscape now. I remember walking the stretch with my mom and picking radiant May flowers which would sit on the center table adorning our otherwise modest living room. My mom would handpick the flowers with great care. She would often run her hands gently through the flowers, take a whiff of its fragrance, the vivid colors would often reflect in her dancing and dazzling eyes filled with youthfulness and excitement.
Her favorite flowers were the purple tulips. She often made a beautiful and rich bouquet of blue-violet and magenta tulips and placed them in a crystal vase at her bedside table. Purple is the color of royalty, extravagance, joy, creativity and wisdom. My mom’s personality was reflected by the color of tulips she chose. She would often volunteer at weddings of folks and friends in decorating the wedding bouquet with a combination of red and white flowers depicting pure and passionate love, beauty and elegance.
I plan to pick up her favorite tulips and set it at the bedside. I visit her on holidays. So I am looking forward to the May Day. Even today the flowers bring a lively, wrinkled smile on her face, the glint in her eyes reflects her joy. She is in her 80’s and barely able to walk two steps but the presence of these young, ephemeral flowers thrill her. She says, “You know my son, flowers are God’s way of letting us know that life is short but beautiful, decorate it with love and tenderness.”
I hug her and tell her, “All I know Mama is that I love you and anything for you!” She smiles back with a tear trickling down from the corner of her eyes and reaches out to touch the flowers.