Even though it’s winter, my backyard is in bloom. We have a large green bush with a group of non-edible red berries on it. The berries are only growing in one spot, and it happens to be right in front of my bedroom window.
Annie loves to go out and look at the fruit trees, and so do I. We had limes when we moved in, and now we have lemons, too. To Annie they’re all “balls” and she just wants to throw them.
There are a few random white daisies growing near the kaffir lime tree, maybe three or four total, seeds brought in by a gust of wind. Annie and I leaned over to smell one when I noticed its dazzling center.
Annie was quickly distracted by fallen fruit, so I sat on the wall and watched her play. After a bit she came over to me and said, “Mama, look!” and pointed behind me. I was 99% certain there was a bear, or a large spider. Instead, I saw greenery. “What am I looking at, Annie?” I asked.
In a sea of green, a lone purple flower is tall and strong. I don’t know how long it’s been there or how long it will stay, but I really don’t know how Annie came to call it a Maddie Flower. We’ve been very careful to not single out purple as something that is Maddie’s – after all, Annie’s middle name is Violet. Maybe Mike or my parents came across the flower first and named it that. I haven’t asked. I haven’t wanted to.
We stared at it for a while, until Annie said, “Flower pretty, mama,” and blew it a kiss. I blew it a kiss, too. It felt right.