It’s that time of year.
Every Easter, my Mom got white hyacinths from me. My brother Bob got her purple hyacinths, my brother Henry gave her daffodils and my Dad would buy her an Easter lily.
I cherish the memories.
As I go out with Kasia in the morning, I walk past the two big planters by my gate, and smile . Mom is here in my hyacinths, and things are good.