Forget-Me-Not

10 May

On my walk to the train station yesterday I passed through the wood near our house and it was filled with forget-me-nots in full bloom.  It turns out their name is more appropriate than I had previously given it credit for.  As I walked down the path, the air warm, fragrant with the smell of Spring blossoming, the flowers swaying in a gentle breeze, and the sun peeking out behind the clouds, a memory was conjured up from the depths of my childhood in River John.

I am not sure how old I was, but I must have been five or younger.  My mother had gone to the shop and taken us with her for one reason or another (in this particular instance I think it was my brother Ryan and I).  We parked near the shop and she went into the Co-op and specifically told us to stay in the car.

But, while she was gone we sneaked out of the car and into the lot beside the shop.  We walked through the unkept greenery and trees and began to pick handfuls of forget-me-nots; pink and purple and blue… but mostly blue ones.  We gathered our handfuls together into a bunch and placed them on the steering column, for my mother when she got back into the car.  Then we got back into our seats and pretended like nothing had happened.

I am not sure what happened next, but I do have a vague memory of my mother getting back into the car, seeing the forget-me-nots, then presumably (rather quickly) deducing our actions, and turning around to smile at us in the back seat.

What strikes me most about this memory is not that it was so abruptly brought to mind when I saw the flowers yesterday morning, or even that I remembered it happening so clearly*, but the sensation that I get when I cast myself back into that memory; the feelings of being five years old again and taking part in a secret act to surprise my mother – the pure joy of knowing that despite my actions being in direct disobedience to her instructions, it was for the best of reasons and therefore it was terribly exciting, fun, and right.

*And if this memory turns out to be untrue (I am never sure if I can trust the memory of a five year old, let alone the memory of a five year old after twenty years have passed – maybe it never happened, maybe I have got all of the details incorrect, maybe…), it doesn’t really matter to me, because I know that yesterday morning for a few minutes while I walked through the woods I felt like I was five years old again and all that mattered was that I was going to let my mother know I loved her.

Happy (early) Mother’s Day Mum.

I love you.

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2 Responses to “Forget-Me-Not”

  1. novayoga2 May 11, 2012 at 1:00 am #

    I remember many bouquets that you picked for me and I am pretty certain that I remember the Forget me nots in the stering wheel on the old yellow datsun. I bet if you asked Ryan he would be able to shed some light on this. Memories are stange ,I was looking at some photo’s the other day and the memeoris came pouring back, so many good times in River John, so much laughter and smiling faces.
    I have a strong childhood memory recently of hanging cut out christmas snow flakes in my parents bedroom as a surpirse. My Mum and Dad had gone to the city to christmas shop and my sisters were charged with looking after me. We spent the daycutting out snow flakes and hanging them from the ceiling of my parents bedromm as a surprise. When they got home, we were excited and anticipating their delight in our decorating skills. Being children we did not realize that we hung the snow flakes at our eye level, likely about 4 feet from the floor so your Nana and Papa had to wade through reams and reams of cut out snow flakes to get into their bedroom. They handled it well, but perhpas my artistic muse was a bit deflated after that day.

  2. Dean May 14, 2012 at 2:03 am #

    The lot next to the Co-op in RJ was full of forget me nots. I would say it most probably happened and even if not the memory is as good as if it did. The five year old world of flowers is powerful and lovely. Took you to a place from long ago and far away.

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