Those Chrysanthemums My Mother Wouldn’t Love
In joy and in sadness, flowers are our friends
Thanks to Dr. Preeti Singh, I unlocked a memory from my adolescence.
When she offered a prompt on flowers, I immediately thought I would participate in writing an article.
It usually happens any time she proposes different topics about nature. I get excited. On some occasions, I succeed to write and participate. I’m too late on some others, and I find myself out of setting by publishing a piece when all other writers have completed the prompt round.
This time I jumped for joy, for about ten seconds. Then I was immediately saddened, as a memory came up to me, and I didn’t like it at all. But, I tell you, at my age, and after all the analysis of my past I went through, this was something I could bear. I thought a bit longer, though, about whether to share it or not. After all, I should include other people in this memoir, and I don’t like to put them in a bad light.
I’ll try to be as delicate as possible and tell you my story on a flower challenge of the past, involving myself and my parents.
During a couple of the three months vacations we used to spend in the mountains, there were many summer activities organized by the local township. We usually took place in many…
