I'm not sure why
But everyone keeps talking about their mothers, lately.
Maybe it's because springtime reminds us of birth
Or perhaps it's because Mother's Day is next month.

I don't know.

But it's got me thinking of you, Mom.
It reminds me of when I barely reached your belly button
When you'd take me in the garden
And show me your green thumb miracles.
I think back on nights when the stars would sing for us
And you would point out which constellations were ours.
So many secrets and stories to be told.

I wonder which state you're burning through
Which highway you're on
And what flowers have captured your attention today.
It's springtime, after all.

Do the redbud trees remind you of me?
Of the long drives to town
When I would drone on like a honeybee
About those delicately beautiful petals.
Me, I smile despite myself when I see the forsythia unpack their trumpets,
And when the irises grow their beards.
You always had a way with flowers.


Even when your words would slur,
You always had a way with flowers.
Even when you would pass out and burn dinner,
You always had a way with flowers.
Even when you stopped coming home at night,
You always had a way with flowers.
Even when you packed your things and left,
You always had a way with flowers.
Even when you didn't get better,
You always had a way with flowers.
Even when I stopped answering your calls,
You always had a way with flowers.

You always did.
I guess you always will.