The strawberries came from the Saturday morning market at the lake.
I put them on a dainty rose-spattered china plate and smiled. The plate was bought for my mother by my dad. One Saturday morning about 34 years ago my dad and I went shopping in a farmers market in PA. There was a side building that hosted an antique/flea market each week. On an impulse we went over to it after getting our market goodies. We found all kinds of treasures! But at one point, Dad came to me with this small oval plate with scalloped edges and said, "Do you think Mama would like this?" I was charmed by it as well as his thoughtfulness and assured him she would indeed.
She did.
A very short time later, Dad died in five minutes of a heart attack. The shopping excursion turned out to be our last time together.
When Mother died, I picked the plate from the pile of dishes.
Now each time I pull it out, I remember the whole history of loving.
And the strawberries melted in my mouth.
Along with my tears.
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