Some days are just auspicious
April 2nd is mine
My mother was born on this day in 1920, in Elgin. Doris.
My father died on this day. Robert, from Lancaster.
And three years ago today, we planted an oak tree for my husband, Larry.
The universe has a dark sense of humour about anniversaries.
This morning I went out into the garden to pick flowers.
Larry’s favourite camellia was showing off.
Practically screaming, look at me! in that shocking, unapologetic pink.
It has no chill, that plant.
Just throws itself into bloom like it’s trying to prove something.
The grape hyacinths were standing to attention.
Ridiculous, really, all that effort for something so tiny.
But they push through cold and rain and absolutely will not be ignored.
Sweet and funny and determined. Like my mum.
And the daffodils. God, the daffodils.
Golden and silly and completely full of themselves. Dad loved them.
He was such a gent, my father. Loved Wordsworth.
Probably wandered lonely as a cloud at some point, though knowing him it would have been a very polite, well-mannered sort of wandering.
I have this flower ritual now.
Today. Blue hyacinths for Mum. Yellow daffodils for Dad.
The outrageous camellia for Larry, placed next to his photo on his side of the bed.
I tell him: “Here are some flowers from the garden for you, my love.”
Am I a mad woman, talking to photographs and arranging flowers for ghosts?
For someone who never thought of herself as sentimental, I seem to have become a person who conducts small ceremonies with vases.
It’s the tiny things now.
The completely ordinary miracles of nature
Here’s what I keep telling myself: You are here to have fun.
I have chosen to celebrate my wins.
Not what I didn’t do but what I did do.
To take pleasure in the smallest things from washing the floor to eating tomatoes swimming in olive oil and garlic.
Not beating myself up for anything big or small.
Today, all three of my family are here.
My sweet, funny mum and my lovely dad.
My love bird, Larry, who would have laughed and told me I was being dramatic.
He’d be right.
But I’m doing it anyway.
I don’t know what will happen.
But I know it starts here.
On this day. With these flowers.
And with this stubborn belief that life is not only worth showing up for but is full of many gifts and infinite possibilities.
Even when, especially when it breaks your heart
Love always
— Janie x