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THE POWER OF FLOWERS
My mother turned 75 years old in July. Two months later, I got a call from Tuti, the nurse who took daily care of my mother at home since my mother had a stroke. Due to her illness, my beloved mother had not been able to move or speak at all. She could no longer recognize the people around her except for the nurse and me. I was her only daughter working in a city while my mother lived about 801 km from the city where I worked. On weekends I would drive from the city to my
mother's house in a small town. I spent time with my mother while she was alive
even though it was only one-way communication. When my mother's health began to deteriorate in November, I was driving to my mother's house. Driving on the toll road to my mother's house seemned long and monotonous. I preferred taking the narrow and rather winding roads. The scenery on the winding roads always captivated me, passing through the green terraced rice-fields on a mountain slope, listening to the gurgling water of a brook which sounded like a nostalgic song. I turned off my car's air conditioner to enjoy the clean air. It was a good thing to breathe.
When I reached the last bend, I suddenly discovered a little beauty that I had
never seen before. Near the bushes on the edge of the rice field, I saw several
clumps of wild flowers in bloom. They were delicate and purple and swayed in the
wind as if they were whispering a story to one another. Seized with awe, I pulled my car to the side of the road and plucked those wildflowers. "I'll put them in a vase and give them to my mother. I'll place them on the small table beside her bed." I thought.
Arriving at my mother's house, I did everything I had planned in the car. 1 went to my mother's room and slowly put the bunch of purple flowers down. My mother could only stare at what I had placed on her small table. This time I saw her eyes sparkling a little and even seemed more lucid than usual. The look in hereyes seemed to be grateful, commenting on the beauty of the flowers and her curiosity to know where I had gotten those flowers. I was not surprised, but inside my heart was overjoyed. It turned out that the flowers on the edge of the road were able to evoke something in my ailing mother. Even stating
though her body could no longer respond, but the look in her eyes could not deceive.
Afterwards, I always brought a small knife, a vase and a bottle of water in my
Jeep during my trips to visit her. Every time I stopped in front of the house, I quickly
jumped out of the car with the bunch of purple flowers in the vase. With those flowers,
my mother's eyes would shine and we had a pleasant conversation. Even though she
could not speak, the look in her eyes said a lot to me. One mid-week morning at the end of the year, I got a call from Tuti saying that my mother's condition had taken a turn for worse and asking me hurriedly to see my mother. Immediately I sped away and passed the flowers I usually plucked. I suddenly braked the car and decided to turn around, walk a few meters back, and pluck a few sprigs.
Arriving at the hospital, I found my mother was very pale and weak. I put the flowers in the vase and came closer to the bedside and hold my mother's hand. She felt a touch on her fingers. That was the last conversation we had together.
THE POWER OF FLOWERS
My mother turned 75 years old in July. Two months later, I got a call from Tuti, the nurse who took daily care of my mother at home since my mother had a stroke. Due to her illness, my beloved mother had not been able to move or speak at all. She could no longer recognize the people around her except for the nurse and me. I was her only daughter working in a city while my mother lived about 801 km from the city where I worked. On weekends I would drive from the city to my
mother's house in a small town. I spent time with my mother while she was alive
even though it was only one-way communication. When my mother's health began to deteriorate in November, I was driving to my mother's house. Driving on the toll road to my mother's house seemned long and monotonous. I preferred taking the narrow and rather winding roads. The scenery on the winding roads always captivated me, passing through the green terraced rice-fields on a mountain slope, listening to the gurgling water of a brook which sounded like a nostalgic song. I turned off my car's air conditioner to enjoy the clean air. It was a good thing to breathe.
When I reached the last bend, I suddenly discovered a little beauty that I had
never seen before. Near the bushes on the edge of the rice field, I saw several
clumps of wild flowers in bloom. They were delicate and purple and swayed in the
wind as if they were whispering a story to one another. Seized with awe, I pulled my car to the side of the road and plucked those wildflowers. "I'll put them in a vase and give them to my mother. I'll place them on the small table beside her bed." I thought.
Arriving at my mother's house, I did everything I had planned in the car. 1 went to my mother's room and slowly put the bunch of purple flowers down. My mother could only stare at what I had placed on her small table. This time I saw her eyes sparkling a little and even seemed more lucid than usual. The look in hereyes seemed to be grateful, commenting on the beauty of the flowers and her curiosity to know where I had gotten those flowers. I was not surprised, but inside my heart was overjoyed. It turned out that the flowers on the edge of the road were able to evoke something in my ailing mother. Even stating
though her body could no longer respond, but the look in her eyes could not deceive.
Afterwards, I always brought a small knife, a vase and a bottle of water in my
Jeep during my trips to visit her. Every time I stopped in front of the house, I quickly
jumped out of the car with the bunch of purple flowers in the vase. With those flowers,
my mother's eyes would shine and we had a pleasant conversation. Even though she
could not speak, the look in her eyes said a lot to me. One mid-week morning at the end of the year, I got a call from Tuti saying that my mother's condition had taken a turn for worse and asking me hurriedly to see my mother. Immediately I sped away and passed the flowers I usually plucked. I suddenly braked the car and decided to turn around, walk a few meters back, and pluck a few sprigs.
Arriving at the hospital, I found my mother was very pale and weak. I put the flowers in the vase and came closer to the bedside and hold my mother's hand. She felt a touch on her fingers. That was the last conversation we had together.
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