Thursday - 05/13/2021 — Last Sunday my daughter invited me over to her house to celebrate Mother’s Day. After a lovely lunch, she told me to close my eyes and hold out my hands.
Tomorrow you’ll find out what the present was wrapped in, but for today you get to see the mug she’d used to ensconce one of the offshoots from one of her numerous plants. She knows I tend to murder houseplants of any sort (not deliberately. It just happens.), so she gave me careful instructions about watering and even about how to propagate my own offshoots whenever this little fella drops a leaflet.
This finally cleared up something I’ve been wondering about for the past week and a half. On the first Sunday in May, my son messaged me a wish for the happiest Mother’s Day ever. A week early, but not a big deal, so I messaged back my thanks without asking how/why he’d messed up the date.
Turns out that Veronica had just sent him a picture of this mug. “Look what I planted for Mom for Mother’s Day,” she told him. So he thought that was the day.
Mystery solved. Now, if I can just keep myself from murdering the plant. Of course, even if I can’t avoid it, I’ll still have the mug. And the mug is right. My children—both of them—ARE simply lovely.
