Forget-Me-Not

Flowers of Mum

I recently saw an Etsy-advertised pair of dangling, statement earrings featuring real wild forget-me-not flowers encased in resin.

Clever!

I closed my eyes at the thought and just like that, a sweet and warm memory began to gather in fragments, then came flooding my mind. 

Mum had pots full of forget-me-nots in the front window flower boxes of our house. 

In a country where either the sun shines or it rains, her flowers didn't use words to announce their arrival to the world. They just bloomed. 

Year-round, in fact.

I remember how dainty blue clusters, only about half an inch in diameter with five petals and a yellow center, would fill the entire front of our windowsill. Mum and I often took turns picking off yellowing leaves and spent blooms.

Cut that long stem over there, Chon, she would say. So it will grow fatter and stronger.

Always, she'd pick a couple of tiny clusters, being careful to include the hairy stem they are attached to. She'd then lean forward, part the hair that covered my ears, and carefully tack a cluster on my right pierced lobe, then the left. 

Afterward, she'd dip her glasses slightly, but only slightly, down her nose and study my face. And I'd keep still until she said, her mouth forming a tight grin, Ayan! There you go.

Thoughtfully, I'd locate with my finger where the two dangling forget-me-nots were hanging. I would laugh, ticklish, and stick my nose in the air, hoping to attract a butterfly or two to my ear ornamentation.

Already, I could smell the buds of the star apple tree ripening and tamarind blossoms appearing in their fragrance and loveliness.

And could feel all the amazing that was to come.

(To be continued)