She Teaches Me The Name of Flowers
In the quiet moments when the distance feels insurmountable, I find myself yearning for the warmth of my mother’s physical touch.
There are moments like these when the vast distance seems almost impossible to bridge, I deeply wish for my mom’s loving hug. I live far away in a foreign land, and her comforting presence feels so distant.
It makes me recall the many things she taught me, like the beautiful names of flowers. Her teachings were more than just words; they were acts of kindness that have shaped the very essence of my being.
What she shared wasn’t just words; they were little acts of kindness that have molded who I am today.
With my mother’s warm love surrounding me, I’ve chosen to write stories about her from my clear memories, one story at a time. Seeing other authors share their experiences about their moms has encouraged me to do the same.
Today, I’d like to paint a picture of nostalgia, recalling a beautiful moment when my mother, her eyes filled with affection, taught me the names of flowers in her native language. These are one of my precious childhood memories. I am blessed to have tons of such memories with my parents.
She had a strong love for keeping nature’s beauty. She’d put old newspapers in front of her and gently dry leaves and delicate flowers, giving them a second chance at life. She collected and kept these treasures with care. Later on, she turned them into fragrant potpourri, showing her artistic spirit.
She teaches me the name of flowers
The different colours of leaves
The love of the homeland
But it was in the act of teaching me the names of those very flowers that I so vividly remembered. Each word she whispered in her native language was a melody of love, a bridge connecting me to the roots of our heritage.