Weeds

I love dandelions.

I remember blowing on their seeds and making a wish as a kid. As an adult, they are a touch of sunshine in a ridiculously difficult day. I know they and other "weeds" (as opposed to the flowers we so carefully cultivate) annoy some people and destroy their perfect American Dream lawns, but for me they mean summer. They make me smile. I love seeing our lawn and the park behind our house full of them. The bees are happily buzzing about getting their fill of the early pollen, the birds watching the bees, the squirrels and rabbits running around.

Eight months out of twelve, they are a reminder of life and for the other four, I keep one as the wallpaper on my phone. My favorite is one of a slightly closed bloom, sheltered in fallen autumn leaves from the slight covering of snow. If the dandelion can still show its face to the sun, can't i?

I also love violets, another "weed." They also remind me of childhood, but specifically of my mom and her mom, my granny. Mom and Granny always looked forward to spring and would try to be the first to spot a violet. They usually bloom around their birthdays and it was something fun that kept them connected despite the distances between them.

Sometimes those distances were physical, but at other times, they were more relational. My mother was not the easiest person to get along with. She could be everything light and lovely in one moment, but it seemed just as easy for her to be anxious and paranoid, staying up all night just to watch me sleep as I visited as an adult. It's hard to explain that to most people, but I never had to try with Granny. Mom was her oldest and yet her baby girl. She understood my mother better than anyone, but that did not mean she understood her very well at all. It was so good to have her on my side, someone to turn to that understood without a doubt how much I loved my mother and how exhausted she could make me.

Weeds are so prevalent in our world. Some people choose to deal with them through chemicals or hours spent plucking them out one by one. I choose to embrace their difficulties along with the joy they bring. I may get stung by a passing bee, have a mess of a car thanks to the birds, or step on walnut shells as the squirrels find their stashes. That's life. The joy is worth the mourning.

This year, I saw my first violets on the day between my Granny and Mom's birthdays. It's been 10 1/2 years since my Granny passed away suddenly and 5 1/2 years since Mom went left of center on a road she knew like the back of her hand. It's hard to believe it's been that long since I saw them, but I'm grateful for all that they taught me. It's the small things in life that make it worth going ahead with each new day.

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