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Published by Paul R. Parsons
Thoughts on spring as a young child
Thoughts on spring as a young child

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Published by: Paul R. Parsons on Nov 18, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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CrocusesIn the springtimewhen the icicles used to dripand snowbanks turned deep brownalong the edge of the road.Little patches of grasswould show by the bottomof the old porch on Sage.Crocuses, colorful, purpleflowers would appear suddenly and without warning.“Look,” said my mother,as she held my hand goingdown the steep steps.“Spring is coming.”Lasting only a few weeks, bright against the brown of the porch and the dark green grass.The crocuses would greet meas I greeted my mother every time I left or came homeuntil the snow had melted.Then, they would be gone.Spring morphs into summer.As the seasons changed I wouldlook forward to the returnof crocuses by the porch.Looking eagerly for their facesin the weak sun.That’s what I remember aboutmy mother. A moment on the steps,holding her hand, standingwatching as nature unfolded beautystretching up to the skyto greet the new beginningand finding spring.On the occasion of her deathMay 8, 2010

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