Through the Shade of the Cherry Blossoms
— floral memories and discovering mom
Dressed in denim shorts and purple tube socks scrunched to 90s perfection, I walked alongside Mom. She wore a flowing sundress that radiated out from her small waist over her wide hips.
We were in her happy place, which meant it would be a long day. Mom likes to stop and smell the roses, lilies, and every species of magnolia — quite literally.
My little brother, who was always running ahead or in any direction, didn’t care for the flowers one bit. With his blue and white stripe, collared, polo-style shirt and socks with the same pattern pulled up high, he skipped and darted all over the pavement ahead of us, with a subway map scrunched up in his small fist.
The elongated camera clicked and flashed nonstop until Mom made us stop in the shade as she shuffled through her purse. She needed more ammo. There were so many more shots to take and so many more flowers ahead of us.
I think we were in Brooklyn but it could have been the Bronx. The train ride wasn’t more than a few stops, though, so it must have been the Brooklyn Botanic Garden this time. I was so distracted on the train by the goodie bag toys that I had gotten the previous Friday from Erica’s class birthday party.
