The Light Scent of Jasmine

The way the mother took care of her flowers, representing her attitude on how to care for her young, translated…

That jasmine tree in the yard, white and aromatic, it’d become, extremely healing, during the ages of hardship, the harder times from before. And this, was what’s left, of ALL of my mother’s house’s plants that’s oved here, it’d contained, that stubbornness of my mother, as well as her love too. The land our house was built on fifty years ago was repossessed by the government, and we couldn’t, keep it anymore, but at least, my mother’s love is still here.

My mother had, kept these grounds her whole life, and, although life wasn’t easy, she’d worked hard, to fill up the household with laughter. In the times when we needed to chop up the wood for fires, taking care of the three genera, and tions, a house of nine members, there are, endless number of chores, because my father’s work unit wasn’t stable, she’d also needed to, take care of our relocations. Every time we’d moved, she always found a way, to turn the deserted garden into a jasmine garden, and there would be, the scent of jasmine that surrounded our house.

the jasmine bushes, photo from online…

Mom is a green thumb. Every morn, before the sun showed up in the gardens, she’d already prepared the bucket, the shovel, and the compost, humming along the tunes she’d picked up from the “Mothers’ Choir” the night before, and looked after those bushes of jasmine; staring quietly at the flowers, is her most blissful and peaceful time of day.

Every year when the flower’s season came, other than taking in the beautiful sights of the flowers, mom would sundry the flowers and put them into teas, to fill up the whole house with that aromatic scent.

And, those wrinkles on her calloused hands, told of stories of love. In order to help with the household economics, she’d even started knitting the sweaters, and because she was very excellent in her needlework, everybody in the neighborhood loved what she’d made, and, it’d given her, a ton of order slips, and in those days when money got too tight, she’d helped my dad a lot.

made into teas…not my photo…

She’d taken a firm hand to educating us, and in life, she’d, looked after us real well, hoped that we’d act right.

As the years flew by, we’d all grown up, started our own families, and what I couldn’t forget was, that light scent of the jasmine she’d planted in our garden still.

So, the jasmine the writer’s mother looked after is her kids, and her household, and, the woman looked after her plants very carefully, made sure they get enough sun, enough nutrients, to grow into being, and, she’d carried the methods she took care of her garden, to looking after her young and her family too.

looking after her garden…NOT my photo…

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