photos by me. may 2009. McKinley Park.
his roses make his yellow-siding home stand out on his 1950s pre-fab street.
most days he simply selects a few roses to be the dinner-table centerpiece.
...
once a year, his roses (all of them) are carefully cut
and placed in green buckets which are then
placed in the back of his "truck."
we drive to cemeteries...in Salt Lake City, UT and
Declo, ID.
the roses are placed with all heart and soul
upon graves of aunts, uncles, grandparents, and children.
if i'm lucky enough to join newel,
i get to hear how his father brought water to
a dry land.
i hear how his mother died when he was only four,
and how it broke his heart,
but oh, how he learned to love his new mother.
he tells us stories that never grow old.
we remember.
then we laugh all the way home,
eating grandma's cookies.
who are you remembering this memorial day weekend?
4 comments:
Fabulous roses. There's something about a fading dry rose. It reminds me of aging. Even the old are beautiful in their own form because they came from something sweet and bright. It's just a natural transformation that we all take, even lovely flowers.
P.S. I like your new blog header. I like the text. :)
Thank you, dear Ann Marie, for putting into words what our memorial days have meant for my lifetime. As grandma and grandpa age and soon leave, we must remember them and the devotion to remembering.
Love
nice colors!
One of my favorite Ann Marie posts! What a perfect way to spend the holiday. I'm deeply touched!
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