Returning to Winter

The crossing guards were at their posts at the corner. The cars of parents dropping off their kids were parked along the street. The daily quarter-to-eight ritual was in full swing.

We backed out of the driveway with a blue sky above us and a bright sun rising in the east over the roof of the house.

Good bye, little garden, my mother said.

She has been here for a couple weeks to spend spring break with Ben. (They had just said their goodbyes as he prepared to hop into the shower with the cast on his arm double-bagged in plastic.) During her stay, she got to see the Bluebonnets and the Indian Paintbrush begin to bloom. And she got to see the best and the worst of our spring sun, rain, warm and cold.

Now it was time to go home.

We left the house and walked thru the fragrance of the Jasmine by the door. We peeked around the corner of the house to look at the Greenthread flowers. And she took one last look at the daisies and the salvia the Slender Vervain and the spring-leafing trees.

We backed out of the driveway, and we headed to the airport, where in a pink jeans jacket with a ladybug bag in tow, she walked to the gate and prepared to return to winter.

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