I am not sure how long it rained, but it seemed longer than a week, long enough for me to notice people being sucked into a damp darkness I had not seen in a while. People began to become desperate – unable to cope without the sun shining, especially after such a long winter. Now for myself, I spend much of my week in a room with the door closed and no windows and I have become accustomed to it but even for me, it seemed to bring a gloom that just kept gathering.
The month of May is very sacred to me, my wedding anniversary, the birthday of my first child and Mothers Day all occur in the first two weeks of the month. Occurring at the same time without fail, my azaleas are in full bloom blazing a fuchsia colored path down my driveway and the paleness of the purple lilacs that line the front windows and porch, usher you into my house on an aromatic wave through the front door.
With my second child being born in April for many years when my children were young, and grandparents still living, our families gathered at our house on an early afternoon celebrating the birthdays of our two children, and that day was revered by them for many years, and a memory I hope they hold onto all of their lives, they still talk about it being as exciting as Christmas. For me I remember how beautiful the weather was, we always seemed to have the perfect seventy five degree sun drenched day, there were water balloon battles and as many people inside as outside, but one of the most memorable things for me was the smell of the lilacs lofting in the windows and you could almost get drunk on the intoxicating waves of fragrance that seemed to be intensified by the warmth of the sun.
And so it was last spring, just as the tiny buds began opening, the rains came. I watched them for a week, beaten by the rain, never able to open the windows or smell their sweetness, and just like clockwork through the rain they journeyed, never stopping and waiting for the sun, and yet I could not help but be disappointed not being able to take in all of their splendor for the week or so they grace my yard.
We traveled to Canada last year for our anniversary, and on that day we had one of those seventy-five degree, sun drenched perfect spring days, and as Dave and I ventured out and drove from the falls to Lake Ontario we pulled the car over and meandered over to an area where park benches lined the edge of the banks overlooking the aqua colored lake. We walked along looking for the just the right bench to get the best view and as we sat down I noticed the dedication plate and it read — “In Memory of Grandmothers”, I did a double take, as the rest were dedicated to people by name, and as I sat down, the memories began to bubble up into my throat and I thought of my own Grandmothers, and Dave’s and the Grandmother joy they brought to us and so many, and for a little while I felt their love and that old familiar joy of the love that surrounded and filled our house from other days in other Mays. Like the lilacs that bloom through the clouds and the rain, as long as we take the time to remember, a Grandmothers love will always remain.
~Cynthia
