A Garland Of

I’ve carried the nosegay all my life.

In my early days, I believed my Mother had selected it for me, then later wondered instead if it was a gift from Dad

Much later I opted to believe it was presented to me by my lover, and of course, now, as the flowers are beginning to show the signs of age, as do I, I know differently.

The flowers were arranged for me by a much higher authority.

The tiny garland I remember from early childhood was comprised exclusively of baby’s breath, gentle and soft to touch.

Several years later after a sister had joined our family, I noticed several daisies had been added. Their bright golden center added vibrance to the still small cluster tightly wound together.

I cherished that bouquet until the year I was seven when stately calla lilies comprised the bouquet I carried to the altar for my first Holy Communion.

I believe that may have also been the moment when I knew I must stop being afraid of everything and everyone. Remembering the blooms I carried helped to remind me about that.

I don’t recall the bouquet changing much during the next few years, and I cannot summon back any lingering aroma. It is strange, almost as if during those years, time had stopped.

Until one amazing night when a lone white gardenia was suddenly inserted into the very center of the nosegay, and the overwhelming perfume filled my world with its glory.

Not very long afterwards, the garland literally doubled in size with the arrival of a cluster of white roses, pure and full of hope.

Immediately, the arrangement of blooms I carried changed radically both in intensity and volume during the seasons that followed.

A soft pink geranium arrived first and the entire bouquet was magnified by its addition. The lovely gentle flower fit snugly into the center and remained intact from that day on.

In rapid succession the lone geranium multiplied with three vibrant red blossoms, all distinct and yet similar in intensity. Thier brightness immediately enhanced the lone pink flower. Almost at the same moment, the bouquet was enfolded in Queen Anne’s lace keeping it intact and free from harm.

As time escalated, the few remaining sprigs of baby breath occasionally took on a tinge of bittersweet, but never quite enough to overwhelm the overwhelming fragrance of my nosegay.

Lavender was introduced gradually until a beautiful September morning when its cluster of serenity changed overnight. The introduction and depth of blue rosemary, instantly entwined the lavender infusing it with bittersweet, and immediately transforming the garland. Soon after, I began to notice an emergence of sweet peas ever so slowly.

I still carry my bouquet, and while like I, it is fading in color and intensity, I will ever treasure all the blooms especially those that have now faded. Recent additions help me remember all the earlier blossoms and remind me to give thanks for the glorious garland I have been blessed to carry.