A Tea’s Whisper

The voice I hear to this day

1995

January 7 but fourteen minutes away from the 8th

My heart remembers well

Each cloud hugging the sky and quenching its thirst

Eagerly shifting my feet in the waiting room with your Mabi

That night, I would be a witness to my third grandchild’s birth

Delivered at 11:50pm

You were born in the midst of rain yet cocooned in the warmth of the hospital

But more endearing — your mother’s arms

Regardless of the black that consumed the night

Each streetlight standing outside that paved the Emergency Room route

Sparkled as the rain bounced on the ground

Happy rain skipping with a smile I thought

~~~

“Pazi” only to you

“Aghayeh Bedrood” to my loved ones and other agricultural engineers

From the rice fields of Baku, Azerbaijan to the farm pockets of the San Fernando Valley

I promised to only let the warmth of my hands touch organic lumber from local farms

Along with the soles of my grandchildrens’ infant feet

Yes, I say I proudly raised three beautiful girls and over 300 species of flowers

Which I considered both to be engrained in my heart’s consciousness

While your grandmother, Mabi, is the foundation of any goodness I may offer to the world.

~~~

2011

November 14

Always smell the roses twice you’d say

Roses carried a soft-spoken love about them

Not one of his rose bushes was identical to the other

He spent half an hour grooming each English, grandiflora, hybrid tea rose on every bush which painted the driveway

Cut and trimmed each bush to remove the dead or injured wood

And directed the growth of the root, a stem, a new life

Our eyes were the only voices seven-year-old Ava could hear as he made sure my shoveling of the soil protected the beds of each bush

Soon after each gardening session

Mabi walked out with two glasses of black Persian tea

Freshly brewed as the tea’s vapor whispered

Today, Pazi’s gentle voice still sways with Mabi’s tea

He told me on November 14

2011

“I’ll be with you when the roses bloom again”