A Lilac Memory

"April is the cruellest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain. "
-T. S. Eliot

I'm leaving for work and what strikes me, other than the fresh smell of the air after an all-night rain, is the soft tickle of the lilac-aroma.

I think back to youthful days spent at my grandparents' house, which was surrounded by lilac bushes, and in the spring mom would pick some lilacs and we would bring them home and put them on the kitchen table in a bowl of water.

She's been gone three months now, and this year I think I'll leave them on the tree, to complete their own cycle in their own way.

We're all a little lilac-y, you know. We are born into the world, bloom, live our time, and leave the unique aroma of our journey behind...

I miss you, mom.