My Mother’s Garden
by Judi Gill
I am not sure when my mother planted her first garden; like her, it has always been a part of my memory. As a child I remember running through the green grass and feeling my legs and feet grow cold from the morning dew. I loved getting up early in the morning, before the heat of the day set in, and digging in the cool earth. Often my spade would unearth worms and I would while away the hours making new tunnels for them to explore.
I would stay in her garden from sunrise to sunset and was always amazed at how her garden was ever changing. The light would dance over the flowers, trees, and grass like a spotlight introducing the next star in Nature’s grand performance. While always in the background was the rustle of leaves, the chirping of crickets, or the gentle sound of the falling rain. After a rain shower I loved to watch the flowers once again open themselves to the warm sun and counting pollywogs in the puddles left behind. At dusk my mother and I would watch the sun turn the blue sky fiery red and paint the clouds brilliant oranges or deep purples before it set. My mother would gather me near and say “be free, laugh, and enjoy these moments; my wish is they will always last.”
As I grew, so did my mother’s garden. It soon included four o’clocks, clematis vines, roses, peonies, baby’s breath, hollyhocks, rose of Sharon bushes, apple and pear trees, succulents, and many other plant varieties. There was never a grand design, just whatever caught my mother’s eye, which always seemed to be just the right thing. We were both bright, full of hope, thinking this beauty, this freshness would always last. My mother would gather me close and say “be free, laugh, and enjoy these moments; my wish is they will always last.”
I remember taking the man I fell in love with home to meet my parents. It was summer and my mother’s garden was in full bloom. We enjoyed a wonderful picnic outdoors, the aroma of the barbeque blending with the smell of flowers and other growing things. The day was perfect, the moment golden; we felt blessed and soon had my parent’s approval to add to our joy. Amid tears of happiness and laughter, a wedding was soon planned. We decided it didn’t matter whether it was spring or summer; something was always blooming in my mother’s garden to add the perfect backdrop to our special day. My mother told us “be free, laugh, and enjoy these moments; my wish is they always last.”
All too soon I was again in my mother’s garden, but this time I didn’t notice the beauty of nature or its earthy fragrance; instead everything was gray. So very gray. My life seemed to be crumbling, as had my hopes for a future with the man I loved. He had decided he didn’t want to be a father, I decided I couldn’t abort our child, so with a heavy heart we parted ways. I was scared for soon I would have a child to raise…how would I survive? Would I be a good mother? I remember my mother touching me gently and her voice saying, “be strong, be brave, for this too shall pass.”
Time passed, my son was born, life went on, until one day I heard a foreign sound. It was laughter. Mine. We were in my mother’s garden and he was laughing at the grass tickling his bare feet. His contagious childish laughter and my mother’s garden were filling the emptiness in my heart so that healing could finally take place. I remember taking what felt like my first deep breath in years, redolent with the perfume that was unique to my mother’s garden and sun-warmed baby flesh. I felt such peace, such release, such exhilaration!
I learned to look out at the world through his eyes, enjoying his awe at a butterfly’s flight, and the delight he felt as an earthworm wriggled in his hands. To make him a part of the garden my mother helped him plant special sunflower seeds that would grow to 5 times the size of a normal sunflower. We planted, we watered, and we watched. Soon a green sprout shot up, then another, and another - thrilling my son with his accomplishment. These sprouts grew so quickly that we soon were calling him Jack and the sunflower stalk! When the sunflowers bloomed they were as tall as promised and each bloom was the size of a dinner plate. We carefully picked the seeds and saved some to grow next year. The others we salted, roasted, and savored all winter long.
In the fall and winter my son and I would spend time with my mother deciding what should be planted in her garden. Each spring and summer we helped her mulch, fertilize, plant, organize, string trellis, and then we sat back and waited. Everything grew well in my Mother’s garden, except the giant sunflowers. The sunflowers grew, but only to average height and size, never again did we see the gigantic blooms. We didn’t miss them though, because my mother’s garden is a special place. It is cool, it is fragrant, it is ever changing, and it is her. My son and I would listen to my mother saying “be free, laugh, and enjoy these moments; for all too soon they pass.”
It was in my mother’s garden that my son, now 17, told me he wanted to join the Army. I was uneasy because he seemed so young and it was a tremendous commitment, but he and the Army didn’t need my blessing…they were just waiting for him to turn 18. He couldn’t know that soon the storm clouds of war would sweep him up and off to Iraq. My son, a boy not yet quite a man, told me he wasn’t leaving forever……just a short while. I told him to be brave, be strong, your country’s proud of you and so am I. Under my breath, so he couldn’t hear, I was praying “Oh, God please bring him back.” He turned back to look at me one final time and said, “Don’t worry mom, I’ll be strong and brave for this too shall pass.”
Sometimes a mother needs her mother. I journeyed to my mother’s house, and once there, she led me to her garden. We cried until our tears were spent, then chilled we went into the house and started our habit of watching the news. Soon the screen was filled each evening with images of the place my son was half a world away. We were terrified to watch…terrified not to, praying that the phone would ring…praying that the doorbell wouldn’t.
Then one day my mother called me, more excited than I had heard her sound in months. She wanted me to come right over, but wouldn’t tell me why. So I set off to her house to find out what the big mystery could be. There in my mother’s garden, a lone sunflower grew…5 feet tall with blooms the size of a dinner plate. My mother said it was God’s promise that Jeff would be coming home. We now had to be brave and strong longing for this also to pass.
When my son came home my mother showed him the picture of the giant sunflower that had grown while he was gone. He couldn’t believe it, but was glad we had received this sign of his eventual homecoming. My son wasn’t the boy who had gone off to war, he had returned a man, and as we sat in the garden we discovered the new person he had become.
My mother’s garden had one more miracle to perform within its comforting shelter. My mother was diagnosed with malignant breast cancer, underwent surgery, and then 37 radiation treatments to stop its progress. She endured pain, radiation burns, fear, uncertainty….and having her hope stretched to its limits. I remember holding her now arthritic hands and saying, “Be strong, be brave, for this too shall pass.” We reflected about women, mothers, and how love comes full circle.
In her garden we waited for the phone call that would let us know if she was cancer free…or not. When it came we tensed…then we found out she was cancer free! Peace settled over us, long pent-up breaths were released, the heady scent of freshly mown grass now able to filter in. Her garden was gathering us close, all sounds hushed except for the soothing whisper of the leaves and the soft tinkling of the wind chimes. Gently reminding us of the cycles of life and that its beauty, its sanctuary…would always last.