When my Mom passed away, my blogging friend Priya, of Partial View, sent me an email with this beautiful photo of a gardenia “taken in her garden a few weeks earlier, just after the rains stopped.”
I love all flowers, but I adore the scent of gardenias. How did Priya know?
I missed my Mom today.
We used to speak every day, but I haven’t spoken to her for a month. I’d love to pick up the phone just to ask her, “How are you?”
How are you Moether?
Sad, lonely, my eyes dripped several times.
Late this afternoon when a young woman gave me her credit card, and I saw her name was Priya, I shrieked. The poor thing thought she’d done something wrong. I tried to explain that it’s the first time I’ve seen the name Priya – which she told me means “beloved” – on a credit card, but she didn’t understand why her name would make me so happy.
* * *
When I emailed Priya to thank her for her beautiful photo, I suggested that whenever she smelled the gardenias in her garden in India, she should send me a mental picture of the scent.
I got it this time, and I didn’t feel so lonely.
* * *
Still in a way-nobody sees a flower-really-
it is so small- we haven’t time-
and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time
– Georgia O’Keeffe