Michelle made my wedding bouquet. I was awfully fond of it.My mom lives close-ish, so she is able to come up often for the odd Afternoon of Leisure. Usually we just stroll around the city, sometimes we get lunch. I will say that I had a late breakfast and that I just want a coffee but when her salad comes I will pick the dried cherries off it like a damn monkey and she will not stop me.
Last time she was here, we walked through the park in my neighborhood and as we passed the tulips nodding in the wind I told her my next career would be flower farming. It should be mentioned that I’ve never grown a flower in my life, nor have I ever cut or arranged them in any sort of inspired way. I am just an overzealous admirer of the things, sort of like a big Rolling Stones fan who doesn’t see why she can’t apply to be Keith Richards. I am obviously romanticizing something that is very hard work, but in my vision it is just a dreamy, earthy, hands-on trade that I have a miraculous knack for. As mom recently completed a Master Gardener course, I told her I would need her skills when the time comes.
Mom: Like I know how to farm flowers!
Me: But you’re a MASTER Gardener.
Mom: It was a take-home test!
Yesterday she was able to get her three kids in one house together for Mothers’ Day. I was trying to get some broke-ass pink grocery store tulips into a too-small vase and umm maybe started hacking at them indelicately with kitchen scissors “to thin them” and she just very patiently took them from me without a word and gave them the proper treatment. Then she took the little shorties that I had savagely abbreviated and sort of tucked them in the sides of the arrangement, and I swear to God, she was able to make the whole thing look intentional.
I said, “Yeah, so about flower farming” as she placed the salvaged arrangement on the dinner table. And she gave me a sympathetic look that meant, “You are a disaster”, but she didn’t say it out loud, which is an awfully charitable act of Momhood, don't you think?