Well I thought I’d share the lilacs before they completely leave my memory for the season; all that’s left outside are skimpy handfuls of blossoms clinging to the dried stems.
Isn’t that the way? One day, the lilacs are in full bloom; the next day, they have folded. Today, I am scrubbing grubby hand prints off the walls; tomorrow, those hands will find work outside of growing up and leave my walls clean. I need to remember to kiss the palms of those hands whilst I can.
Sometimes I remember to pause in the time that I’m in to really see what is blooming in front of me, between washing dishes and checking homework and stuffing bills into envelopes. Maybe if I did that more often in this season…maybe when the fragrance of memory catches me at odd moments later in life…maybe the remembrance and scent will be satisfying and comforting to my heart. Perhaps. Otherwise, in my rush to (fill in the daily blanks), I’m afraid I may miss the bloom completely. And regrets smell rank, not redolent.
Childhood and lilacs: fleeting. Stop and enjoy the bouquets.