One Mothers’ Day
As I watered them, my mind went back to the Mothers Days gone by. Peter knew that I loved the garden and the plants there. He knew that my biggest pleasure was to get new plants at the beginning of summer. It became our custom each Mothers Day to go to the nursery and walk around choosing the new plants we would get that year. One year we bought five lilac trees. Their fragrance are so heady, that the whole neighbourhood still enjoys them every springtime. I like to think that even Peter bends down from heaven to get a whiff. At other times we would choose different perennials. We enjoyed planting them together. I would sit on my little garden stool with my gardening gloved hands, planting; while Peter would sit legs akimbo upon the ground with no gloves, humming happily as he planted away. His hands and the tip nose would be smudged with soil and he would be wearing the most contented smile upon his face. That is what we did most Mothers Day. It was always crowded at restaurants on that day. We would go out to celebrate with Kelly and Renata on the day before, most of the time. That way we got the best of both worlds.
Peter had a habit of asking me if I needed money a couple of times a week. I would either say yes or no depending on what I needed that week. One of those days happened to be the day we were setting off to the nursery. I was looking forward to choosing plants. I don’t know why Peter asked me then, since I was spending the weekend with him. He asked me and I said yes. He gave me five one hundred dollar bills. I normally leave most of it in a drawer and take out an amount as I needed. I definitely did not need any then. I casually rolled up the bills and placed the roll in my cardigan pocket. We then started off to the nursery.
When we returned we planted what we had bought. When we were done, I remembered the wad of bills. I put my hand into my cardigan pocket. Nothing was there! Perhaps I had placed it in the left hand pocket. No, it was not there! With a sense of dread I looked into my handbag. No, the money was not there either!
“Peter, the money you gave me this morning is gone. I lost it!” I said in dismay and with a great sense of guilt.
Peter’s faced drained of colour. He made me look at my pockets and handbag several more times. I felt mortified and guilt ridden. He never denied me anything. How could I have been so careless? Even though he did not admonish me, his eyes spoke a thousand words. There was a look of hurt and disappointment in them. If he had become angry, it would have been much easier to bear. He did not and I did not know how to make it right.
Weeks passed. The gardeners had come several times since that Mothers Day. One day, as I strolled through the garden, admiring the flowers, I came across the flowers we had planted that Mothers Day. I stopped and bent down to look at them more closely. I reached out touched them. As I did so I spied the roll of one hundred dollar bills. I clutched them tightly in my hands and rushed into the house.
Peter was in his home office. “Look! Look!” I cried in excitement. “These were not meant to be lost after all! Here, take them.”
For a moment he could not grasp what I was talking about. When he did, he smiled and gently closed my fist. Then he bent down and kissed my hand.
That was my sweet dear Peter…
The house is quiet. I lean back into my usurped armchair. The rain gently pitter patters upon the roof. I hear the birds conversing outside my slightly open window. I smile to myself as I remember the goodness of my dear husband and think to myself of how very blessed I am to have had such a wonderful soulmate and friend as my life partner.