These are two of the lilies growing against a rather derelict fence at my son’s & DIL’s. Beautiful, pale yellow, with only a light lily fragrance. Not the heaviness that always seems to suffuse funerals.
I love them, of course. Cut them while my DIL was away at a working retreat, and placed them in her blue glass vase to welcome her home. We hadn’t thought we’d be here when she returned — we expected to be on the road this morning — and I hoped she’d know I thought of her.
Love is full of small gestures, and I’m afraid I don’t make them often enough. I’m pretty good to lend you a tenner if you need gas, or help with a reference or a resumé question. But I don’t always think to do the small things — I’m actually not a very thoughtful person!
As it turns out, the universe had plans for us. The guys (my son & best-beloved) are still in the throes of house chores: frosted glass in the bathroom, shaving two doors so they no longer stick. Building sawhorses and then worktables. So we were already considering leaving tomorrow.
And then my grandson woke up with a fever. It went down bit by bit, but he obviously didn’t feel well. So we’re here another day, and I can try in other ways to let my son & DIL know how dear they are.
Love’s kind of like lilies, isn’t it? There’s the concrete — the flowers — and the ineffable, the fragrance. I love them both. But the fragrance, I confess, is my favourite. Of course, you can’t have it w/out the physical lily, I realise. Still — I can smell these in the kitchen, when the fan moves the still air.
Kind of like love.