In this month of cancelled Proms,
the memory of mine, over
half a century ago, brims
within me—mingled emotions
still attached. I remember
my mother, at the black altar
of her sewing machine,
the painstaking arc of her spine,
face bowed over nimble hands
in a circle of light.
A sleeveless drift of floral voile
in citrus colors skimmed
the dress of our dreams—
with a matching stole: “One must,”
Mom insisted, “always be warm.”
Enter the orchid, be-ribboned
perfection, in a windowed box.
“Oh! Lucky, lucky you,”
she cried. “I’ve never had one.”
She looked so wistful.
Guilt churned. Then . . .
adolescent annoyance, alongside
the message: I was adored.
By a boy. Extravagantly.
I felt so confused.
The corsage waited, inside our fridge,
all day, until my date arrived, then
again, for days afterward: waxy, exotic,
transforming our Maytag into a garden.
Shelf life at its most literal.
Back then I knew nothing of a woman’s bone-deep loneliness. Or betrayal. What it’s like, being left for another.
But kids know when something’s amiss. And even self-absorbed teens occasionally splurge on someone else.
That year on Mother’s Day, from the top shelf of our turquoise fridge, a windowed box enclosing an orchid met Mom’s blue gaze.
She kept it for days.
Today, I see the connection, one I’ve long been living—yet missing. For years now, I’ve stashed little bouquets in the fridge, top right shelf. Each time I open the door . . . blossoms! I never remember they’re there.
Gratitude rises to the Creator, then adoration.
I feel wooed.
My mother never remarried. Never dated, as far as we know. She died, during a bygone May.
I wish I could send her orchids this Sunday. I’d say, “Oh, lucky you! Stay warm, Mama. Know you’re forever adored.”
What memorable corsage or bouquet—given or received—maintains a shelf life in your memory?
Perhaps even the smallest acts of love are fractionally akin, in a nano way, to Eternal Largesse.
Let’s romance ourselves and each other. A May bouquet might nudge us to pray for mothers worldwide amid the pandemic. And teens missing Prom this year.
Whether grocery shopping in person or online, add a few hardy carnations, mums, or alstromeria. Refrigerated, they last for weeks. Be inventive, choosing a vase. Or gather dandelions, clover, or wild violets from your lawn or neighborhood tree border. Maybe send up a prayer, each time you see them.
For more about my amazing mom: Homesick? 3 Timely Ways to Experience Healing Restoration
Orange orchids, black background: Photo by John Wiesenfeld on Unsplash
Wild tree orchid & Fridge shot: L. K.
Nancy Bentz says
I did not go to prom but how often I have danced in synchronicity within.
My mom at 90 is nearer heaven’s threshold, where I redemptively dare Jesus to twirl her around in His arms like the 18 at heart she is. Bestowing on her the long-awaited “you’re my only one.”
Meanwhile, she has lived surrounding herself with beauty in gorgeous flowerbeds.
These are tender times as the clock ticks. Surprised her with a visit over Mother’s Day – she didn’t know we were coming. Precious moments, of which memories are ~
Laurie Klein says
Nancy, your words help me glimpse the ongoing marvel she is, both in your life, and in God’s heart. And what a vivid picture of the Ultimate Twirl! I like to imagine those flowers she’s planted and tended, her daughter surprising her on Mother’s Day—for each of you, tender times, indeed.
Kathleen Thompson says
Lovely. Just lovely. I look forward to meeting your mom someday.
Laurie Klein says
Kathleen, how lovely, thank you. When that day comes, and should you two exchange stories, she will enjoy and admire you greatly. And as a music lover she’ll probably ask you to sing . . .
Carol Wilson says
Your words: like morning dew on roses and azaleas.
Tears rest on the surface of my soul released from memories stirred (scenes of the paternal grandmother who raised me at her sewing machine), longing (not knowing my own birthmother), regret (making the awful choice I did that ripped the opportunity to be a mom away from me), redemptive healing (my own and facilitation of others’), unexpected kindness (“Happy Mother’s Day” sentiments from those I didn’t think possessed understanding), future hope (heavenly introductions).
Laurie, You are a Gift! Thank you!
Laurie Klein says
Oh, such beautiful images these are, Carol: morning dew gracing petals and “tears rest on the surface of my soul.” The fact of them “resting” there is such a picture of awareness and acceptance and attention. And perhaps the deeper peace made, over the years. Wishing you God’s fresh-off-the-altar touch on all that is stirring in you today. As I read your words alongside the parenthetical verbal snapshots I can’t help but marvel: wow, what a rich, complex, and profoundly fruitful life.
Carol Wilson says
Thank you.
John says
You’ve done it again, little lady. Your pain comes through, but in a fresh, sort of unused way. My contact with your mom was brief, but appreciated. A 12 year old spurred on by visions of hot chocolate in a place – and house, had I asked, I probably wasn’t supposed to be. But I remember the turquoise, the appliances – AND the front door, which was a magnet and a repellant for years. I remember teaching sales people not to fear the “hot doorknob”, and each time I did, I thought of the turquoise door, and how much sizzle it took for a lady to have everything painted – turquoise!
Laurie Klein says
Thank you, John. And thank you for holding those memories of her over the years. I am really liking that word “sizzle”—not one I would have thought of, but yes, it seems apt. It must have taken self-confidence and daring and nerve to paint the front door that shade, in that neighborhood, expressing personal flair. I’m smiling as I type this. It’s like you’ve given me a glimpse of her I hadn’t seen clearly before. Wow. Huge. Gift. Huge gift.
Carol Hobday says
Our mama had “sizzle” – what a fun concept for me to think about. This helps me remember that she did have some boldness in her at one time – before she became tired and broken, some days barely hanging on.
Thank you for this memory!
Laurie Klein says
Isn’t it wonderful to catch this glimpse of her!? So grateful to John for his observation. Now I want to try to remember more instances. Let’s talk soon!
Roberta says
Never went to a prom. I was quite the recluse. I do, however, come from a family line that treasures the wonder of an orchid in a clear plastic box with a ribbon holding it shut. Worn once on Mother’s Day, preserved for weeks in the made in America Maytag. The corsage, a reminder of love and ROYALTY. My Grandma passed on to my mom, the fine art of preserving flowers in the fridge. The wonder of love, right there beside the milk.
Such a wonderful gift! Thanks for the smile and the memory, Laurie
Laurie Klein says
“The wonder of love, right there beside the milk.” The perfect summation. AS I think about it, both the orchid and milk nourish body and soul, and both are the wondrous result of God’s gift and of great care taken in bringing them forth.
And . . . Royalty, yes! I hadn’t thought of that aspect and am so grateful for the ways you’ve enlarged my view today. Thank you, Roberta!
Pacia Dixon says
No words… Just beautiful, Laurie. (Actually a billion words sky-rocketing and ricocheting around in this brain, steeped and fermented, fizzled and enlivened by a million memories of flowers and beaus, emotions, and Mom, and sewing machines and orchids in boxes and florist shops and dresses and fabrics, and a skinny little body, and plump little hands proffering dandelions.) (And wild bleeding hearts, picked for my mom, down by the artesian well.) Well, I digress.🤣
Laurie Klein says
What a vibrant, poignant, meaningful digression! I forget sometimes how RICH life is all along the way.
Now my brain’s lighting up . . . Thanks for remembering on-screen and triggering more memories of my own.
Here’s one my daughter recently remind me of: I used to pay our girls a penny for every 5 dandelions they picked. They’d line them up in groups of 5 all the way down the sidewalk so I wouldn’t miscount, or miss a single one . . . and they wouldn’t miss out on a single penny. Now she’s a musician and a CPA. Hmmm. Might there be a connection?
Thanks for reading and leaving me images to savor today. Already the day seems brighter.
Michelle Anne Ortega says
How lovely, all these words. You’ve captured our souls’ need for romance. It’s no small thing these students are missing prom this year. And your sensitive spirit, knowing just what your mama needed. Romance, to me, has taken on new meaning as a perpetually single woman. I don’t hesitate to buy myself flowers, or something sweet, if my soul is in need of a little beauty-nourishment. Fancy dishes (bought at an antique mart) when I eat at home (even if its pizza!!). Little touches to remind myself of the deepest romance I have with my Creator.
Laurie Klein says
Oh YES, the antique china plate (or teacup), a rose (maybe a dozen!), wine, fresh raspberries——all “the little touches” add up. How wise you are. As you say, the soul yearns for beauty.
A friend of mine sometimes talks about the romance of our redemption: Beauty, at such terrible cost yet freely offered, again and again. For me, Prom was a rite of passage. So many will miss that singular magic this year. I wonder if this is mostly a girl thing. I don’t know. So I pray for our youth and trust that touches of romance reach them this year. Amen.
Mike says
Thank God for Mother’s such a special role in life.
Laurie Klein says
Mike, I second your thanks!
Larry says
Laurie
I loved this.. you once again transported me through the minefield of time past and present with all the feelings and emotion .
Beautifully written , The life of a flower in its bloom , preserved much the same as A life We try to hold on to when the winds of fate work against us..
Your mom understood, as you did too.
The flower , a gift of life to be cherished by each of you .
Thank you for the reminder , Mother’s Day remembered .
Laurie Klein says
Larry, thank you, my friend, for letting the story and images move you through time. There’s something exceptionally meaningful for me in hearing from a friend who experienced those same years and events and places, so long ago now.
I think of you and your family, knowing you’re probably also in lockdown and can’t gather around Sue this Sunday, and I wish you both quiet joys via cards and calls and texts. Maybe flowers, too . . .
Nancy Ruegg says
You brought to mind my first corsage–also an orchid. Believe it or not, Laurie, my dress was also citrus colors, lime and yellow. My grandmother had purchased it (She was a savvy shopper with a keen eye for style), and my mother added a sheer skirt with lots of gathers for more elegance. I’ll need to thank them again when I get to heaven for the time, effort, and love they expended, making my first “formal” a glorious evening! I was not nearly appreciative enough at the time. (Note to self: Be appreciative now to as many as I can.) As for your tip about flowers in the fridge: I love that idea of placing a garden surprise among the Tupperware!
Laurie Klein says
Nancy, I bet you were a knockout! Your dress sounds dreamy, a gown guaranteed to float a girl at least an inch above the burnished gymnasium floor . . .
I’m enjoying these similarities in our prepping for Prom experience. I, too, will be thanking my mother for years of sewing (and knitting) my clothes, and a host of other folks for their generous acts of love I took for granted. Love your Note to self. May we be fluent in thanks.
Jody Collins says
Oh, Laurie, this makes me heartsick with remembering, too. My mother’s been gone for over 30 years…and may share a similar story as your own mother’s.
I like the idea of praying for those who are prom-less or mom-less in this season. What a beautiful reminder.
Laurie Klein says
Do we ever get over them leaving the world? You’ve been at this remembering far longer than I. It sounds like we could share some deep waters of remembrance and solidarity over coffee (from your favorite shop).
On another note: how delightful, the way you phrase this: Prayers for the “mom-less and prom-less.” This aging brain eagerly latches on to catchy mnemonics!