THE BOUQUET

Mother’s Day always brings special memories...some sweet and some bittersweet. When I was growing up I would wear a pink carnation to church on this day.  When one wore a white flower, it meant their dear mother had crossed the Rainbow Bridge.  I would look around the congregation and see the white ones and wonder what those folks were thinking, feeling and I felt so blessed that mine was pink.  

But now it would be white because my mom is gone. I think of her on this day and then I remember a very special Mother’s Day one once again…and I’m back in Mrs. Russell’s third grade class at the Bacon School so many years ago and it a week before Mother’s Day.   “Mis Russell” (as teachers were all called “miss” in those days – married or not) announced right before the closing bell, “How would you like to make a Mother’s Day gift tomorrow?” Of course, it was unanimous because we all knew this project would get us out of arithmetic.  She told us to bring some tissues if we had them and if not, she would have a bunch we could use.  And the bell rang.

When we began the Frida afternoon before the holiday Mis Russell at first didn’t tell us exactly what we were making, but after a few minutes of work, we guessed it was paper flowers.  We bunched up the tissue and tied it with some florist wire.  And to our surprise when we fluffed it up it turned into a carnation.  We each made six of them.  Dab them with a bit of pink paint and then pasted them onto white “lace doilies”.   Mrs. Russel did the final step right before we left for the weekend.   She spayed our bouquets with cologne from the 5 & 10.  They smelled sort of like real flowers. 

I was proud of my handiwork and hid my gift in my bedroom. After Sunday School on mom’s day, I presented it to her.  She raised them to her nose and smelled as if they were a $100 buck bouquet of roses...and with a tear in her eye, she said, “This is the best Mother’s Day gift ever!”

And 50 years after, their color and scent faded - but she kept my tissue bouquet in a vase on her bureau.  After graduating from college and going to work I could afford real ones and had a dozen roses delivered to her for many years - which she would keep until every petal fell.

But for her, the best flower were the ones I made in third grade that never withered and died.