A few days ago it was Annie's birth date.
I walked up the hill to her home and picked a few faded roses from the rose bush that her mother had planted years ago.
On the way home the perfume from the roses sweetly powerful stirred memories: Rose jam, planting roses with strains of our hair, rose vodka, putting rose buds in our bras… Roses especially the ones from Annie's mother's bush bring back Annie vividly to me. I called her son to say how I carry his mother in my heart and thoughts.
I plucked the petals to dry, I will carry them on Chelsea's and Martin's wedding day. After the wedding when we toss the petals on them as they leave the church, Annie will be there too.
Leave a Reply