Wednesday, February 27, 2013
That's the wisteria and in a week or so it will be a glory, those fuzzy buds bursting into purple blossoms which will hang like clusters of grapes. Wisteria's bloom is like a child's dream of a flower. It even smells, to me, vaguely like purple Kool-Aid.
I had a hard time pulling myself out of the bed this morning. What's-the-point, what's-the-point, what's-the-point my mantra.
Well, the point is, it is daytime and thus, time to get up.
That is the point.
You want to hear something strange? In the last few days I have desperately wanted a mother. Now, not my real mother who died six weeks ago today, but a mother I could go to and say, "This is happening. I'm sad. What do I do?" A mother who would take me in her arms and say, "There, there. It'll be okay."
And what's strange about this to me, is that I haven't had a mother like that in forever (ever? did I ever?) but all of a sudden, now that the mother I DID have is gone, I want that. I want that mother. Isn't that just the silliest thing you ever heard?
I feel fairly certain that I'm not the only person who has ever felt this way.
As proof I offer this- the entire five minutes and nineteen seconds of John Lennon's heart-and-throat ripping song saying it all exactly.
I may have never had a real mother and I certainly never had a father of any kind but I had the Beatles. I had John Lennon and sometimes I think I miss him more than I miss never having had a mother or a father. Because I did have him. We all did.
Bless him. Bless him so.
Well. It sure will be nice when the wisteria blooms.