Primrose

Every year, for many, many years, my mom and I would surprise each other with a bunch of primroses.  Whoever saw them first at the grocery store would buy between 3-5 of them and arrange them artfully where the other could find them, just to get through the last gasp of winter.

I saw primroses in the grocery store yesterday, and though I’ve not got a green thumb on either hand, I just had to buy some in memory of mom.

The primrose is just so tidy – so precious – so like my mom.  A sturdy little flower that can withstand hard things like snow, sleet, hail, worms, spiders, and other nuisances. Mom was a sturdy little lady.  From growing up the 6th of 7 children, surviving a mean older sister, and harsh father, to marrying my beloved dad and having 3 kids of her own, and then 5 grandkids from there, she was a rock.  There was no willowy wisp about her, no shrinking violet, no fragile blossom.

As I ponder mom in her younger years when I was little, the word bossy definitely comes to mind – but maybe that was just the teacher in her.  Loving, thoughtful, kind, and direct are four more words that describe her.  She was the one who always knew what to do – even if the thing to do was wait until my dad got home from work so they could discuss whatever ‘it’ was that needed resolving. 

She loved sewing and crafting – tatting and embroidering – cooking and cleaning – all-around perfect home-maker material, now that I think of it.  Her favorite thing was puttering in the garden, pulling out weeds, and chasing down long grassroots, putting in hundreds of daffodil bulbs and tulip bulbs.  Trimming back her beloved roses so they’d bloom multiple times each year was her kind of therapy

When I was young, she used to sew for us all the time.  Halloween costumes, play clothes, ginny gowns (colorful gowns with full skirts for twirling), prom gowns, and even my beautiful wedding dress.  She quilted, crocheted, and did needlepoint.

And one thing about my mom – she could fix damn near anything with some duct tape, wood glue, and a matchbook.  I discovered a lot of these ‘fixes’ when she passed away and I was helping to clear out the house.  I swear, half of the house is held up by chewing gum and rubber bands.  But she made it all work and the home hummed along happily and efficiently.

She taught us all about chores, though we were pretty half-assed about them.  I learned how to clean a toilet, scrub a door mantle with a toothbrush, dust plant leaves with milk, oil wooden cupboard doors – none of which I do now, by the way. 

As I look at these primroses, I hope that mom and dad are sitting up there on some cloud, having their gin and tonics and tequila with lime, and looking down and smiling upon us with approval.  Even though I’m not the homemaker my mom was, I definitely inherited her capacity to love and to show love, and for that I’m grateful.

I am enveloped by this love every time I see my little grandson.  At nearly 14 months, he is now everywhere.  He is a thoughtful and happy baby. The lack of TV or videos has allowed him to develop a long attention span, and he thoughtfully considers each toy – not for a second or two, but long enough that he understands what he can about it.  This will serve him well for his whole life.  My favorite times are when he’s sleepy, and we tuck in to the recliner for a cozy snuggle with a book.  I run my finger under all the words as I read them aloud, just like my mom did.  Thanks, mom, for teaching me what to do.  Miss ya.