Sunday, January 29, 2012
The Old Lady And Her Flowers
In the corner of my mind is this old lady... and her flowers...
I remember in my younger days, when I was around the house, often she would ask me to carry her flower pots from one end to another. I remembered how I protested, grumbled and complained. But the old lady just knew how to persuade me. The flowers need sunshine... This place is too shady... The flowers look nicer with the new arrangement... And she would start doing what she told me to do...
I remember how she changed the soil in her flower pots, how well she took care of her plants. It was a tedious and time consuming task. I could see her sweating all over. But she wouldn't ask me, or anyone else, to help her... She just quietly cared and talked to her flowers.
I remember her giving me flowers when I started my family. I remember buying her flower pots. The old lady always planted flowers for her children, and she would spend time explaining to them all about her flowers. She would laugh and smile as she talked a long while about her many flowers. Maybe that was how it started... Her children began to love flowers... My wife too, after helping her a few times round...
Maybe flowers were what kept her going in her life. She lived to her 80s... and she died a peaceful death... just like her flowers...
Many a night I awoke with the memories of the old lady... and her flowers. Maybe it's time I plant some flowers...
The old lady is gone... and her flowers. They are not in the compound anywhere.
Oh! My beloved mother and her flowers...
I remember in my younger days, when I was around the house, often she would ask me to carry her flower pots from one end to another. I remembered how I protested, grumbled and complained. But the old lady just knew how to persuade me. The flowers need sunshine... This place is too shady... The flowers look nicer with the new arrangement... And she would start doing what she told me to do...
I remember how she changed the soil in her flower pots, how well she took care of her plants. It was a tedious and time consuming task. I could see her sweating all over. But she wouldn't ask me, or anyone else, to help her... She just quietly cared and talked to her flowers.
I remember her giving me flowers when I started my family. I remember buying her flower pots. The old lady always planted flowers for her children, and she would spend time explaining to them all about her flowers. She would laugh and smile as she talked a long while about her many flowers. Maybe that was how it started... Her children began to love flowers... My wife too, after helping her a few times round...
Maybe flowers were what kept her going in her life. She lived to her 80s... and she died a peaceful death... just like her flowers...
Many a night I awoke with the memories of the old lady... and her flowers. Maybe it's time I plant some flowers...
The old lady is gone... and her flowers. They are not in the compound anywhere.
Oh! My beloved mother and her flowers...
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