First bloom

Maybe it's because my roses have started blooming, but lately, I have felt the absence of my grandma more strongly than usual. I know she is with us, and that she must be so pleased with Franny--tickled pink, to say the least. While it comforts me to know that she is watching over us, it saddens me to think that Franny will never know her as we did. Yet, I have to smile when I remember her in her pink jumpsuit or think of her rolling up her hair in curlers before she went to bed. Isn't it funny what memories stay with us? Sometimes it's the most trivial, little thing that stays in the forefront of the mind--the smell of marigolds; circle-cut slices of watermelon; two and one-hundred dollar bills in the freezer; the color pink. And, every once in a while, I will smell someone wearing her lotion and my throat will tighten.

However, nothing reminds me more of Grandma than the roses she loved. She was soft and feminine, yet strong as nails--and beautiful in all the important ways. Maybe that is what makes roses so special to all of us, and why we nurture them, most protectively, in our gardens. Absolutely, roses are beautiful to admire, with aromatics that can overwhelm the senses. But, for me, rose blooms are more than that, they have a special feeling, and are perceived with the heart.

Someday Franny will ask why, given the constant battles with deer, aphids, and blackspot, we tend to our roses with such care and attention. At that point, I will explain by creating a memory for her--one that we all will build on. Through us, Franny will know her great-grandmother and everything that made her so special. And someday, she will be able to recount stories as if they were her own memories. I look forward to that.

Sometimes I wonder if we were given Franny to replace some of the "pink" that is missing from our lives. If nothing else, she is unquestionably a reminder that we are the culmination of the generations that came before us, and how important it is to celebrate family, both past and present.