When lilacs bloomed

 I plucked one tiny sprig of lilac yesterday on my walk through the neighborhood paths and placed it in a small vial on my desk when I returned home. One sensual whiff transports me to Mother.

She loved lilacs and perhaps passed the love on to me umbilically! I remember a lovely old vase -with mottled creams, pinks and blue - where the lilacs resided when brought inside from the garden bush. Seemingly she could take any flower or greens, place them effortlessly in a container and have instant beauty. I used to ask her how she did it and she said something like -"you just feel it." And she added - "you will be able to with practice." And unbelievably, I was. As was my sister. The blood in our veins is attuned to flowers and their lines of beauty.

But the lilac, is there ever an equal to it's elusive fragrance? Lavender scents pillow the air. My small sprig has softly claimed my room.

Is there a lesson that it is so fleeting?

Whatever.

I will inhale most gratefully a few days a year