Over the last week these flowers have sprouted up in our backyard. They are beautiful. And purple. And so delicately pretty.
I wasn’t sure if they were a weed. They came out of nowhere and are growing in a circle in the middle of our backyard. They weren’t there last year. Or the year before. But they are there now and I have enjoyed watching them bloom, capturing the delicate rays of light that bounce off the round buds.
I asked if anyone knew what they were and a few people sent me this: Muscari, or Grape Hyacinths. So I googled it, and indeed, they are not weeds. They are flowers. Bulbs. Sometimes called Baby’s Breath or Bluebells.
There are moments in my life when the irony of things cannot be ignored. This is one of those moments.
Last year, about this time, I began walking down a long road. One that would lead me to a mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. It’s the same road my mom walked down before me. She, however, didn’t have the luxury of an early diagnosis. And that is where our paths divide.
On this long journey I began working with a medicine woman. She is trained in native cultures and spiritual ceremony. She advised me to create a simple labyrinth that I could walk each day to “unwind” my mind before I prepared for the doctors to slice and cut away my body.
So, I did.
At first I didn’t tell Justin what I was doing. I felt pretty stupid and let’s face it, out of my league, as I strung red string in the backyard around an interloping circle. But I have learned all too well that there are things you do when you have a diagnosis hanging over your breasts that you wouldn’t normally do, or talk about at dinner parties.
I was surprised when Justin said, “I’ve always wanted a labyrinth” when I finally came clean. This man is supportive of most things I do, but, really? Really.
So every morning all summer long, as soon as I let the dogs out in the morning I walked the labyrinth. They did their duty and I did mine. I walked a path in the dried out yellow straw-like summer grass. It was practically dirt from the 100+ degree summer. Every morning as I came to the center of the labyrinth I looked up directly into the sun. It was as if the rays of light soaked into every cell of my being. And then I took the dogs back inside and continued my normal person life. Until the next morning when I walked the labyrinth again.
As summer ended, so did my surgeries. With cooler weather the green grass returned to the yard and the labyrinth disappeared.
Until this week, when I looked out the kitchen window and noticed a crop of purple flowers growing in the center of the yard — exactly in the center of the yard where the labyrinth used to be.
When I told my medicine woman this, she laughed and said back to me. “Honey, that’s a hug from your mom.”
Like I said. Sometimes I question everything. And sometimes there are moments in my life when the irony cannot be ignored. This is one of those times. After all, my mom’s favorite color was purple.
Purple bliss.
More tomorrow.
Lovemore, do more.
Jamie
{what can you not ignore?}
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Tags: bliss, goals, love, promise, success, Support, the color purple
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