I picked lilacs for her on every Mother’s Day.
Every May.
She said as she recounted her childhood connection, her roots, her story.
I remember throwing gumballs in the front yard.
I remember gumball trees.
They were never too sticky,
They were fun
For us
The kids
The leaves green and somewhat course, the shape sort of like a maple leaf but, you know, green
And the ground covered in brown gumballs in the fall
My parents would rake up the leaves and the gumballs and we would pick them up and throw them and jump.
They didn’t hurt, unless sometimes, it depended on how old they were
And we would play with a big pile of balls
These are childhood memories
What will be his?
What will be hers?
I saw him pick up a brown gumball left un-raked from the fall and he asked what it was,
What that ball was.
And I smiled.
Remembering.
Photo credit: http://inspiredroombox.com/gumball-tree/