Blooms are Heirlooms

About 6 months ago, my parents sold their house and moved to another location in town. I was raised in the house they sold. It is the only home that I ever remembered. Not only was it the place where I spent my childhood, but when my parents bought the house, it belonged to my grandparents (my dad's mom and dad). My dad was raised in that house too. I have a picture of him at his high school graduation in that old house.

My parents sold it to a developer who planned to move the house to a new location and then use the land where the house was to put up a shopping center (strip mall with businesses and such). Friday, the developer called my parents and told them that he had tried everything to get the house moved, but the Department of Transportation was blocking his every option. They were going to have to tear the house down. He then told my parents that he knew the house had been in our family for a long time and if there was anything that we wanted, we could go get it. He left the door unlocked for us to go in.

Saturday morning, we went to the house. I went in. I was so sad and happy at the same time. The paint on the walls looked so warm and pretty. It smelled like home. The sunshine poured in through the large windows and looked so refreshing. The sound of my feet on the floor and the squeaks in the doors were so familiar, like they had been seared into my senses. I closed my eyes and wished there was another place in world like this that made me feel so comfortable and safe.

I could not help but have a cleansing cry as I walked out of the house. My mom hugged me and my dad teared up. After that, we began what we had come there to do...get flowers from the flowerbed. There were three hydrangeas. One had been there since my grandma planted it in 1962. The other two hydrangeas and an azalea, my mom had planted after my Papa's funeral 10 years ago. We also dug up a peony plant that belonged to my grandma and then was moved to my parent's house.

We loaded and transported the plants to my house. My mom, dad and I worked to get the flowers settled into my flowerbed. My mom very sincerely said "I pray to God they make it." I said "Yes, lets do! Lets pray they make it." We all took off our gardening gloves. My mom, me, Price and my dad held hands and lined up in front of the flowers. My dad began to pray. He thanked God for creating the flowers and for the special person (my grandma) who they had come from. My dad began to cry and could not finish praying. I was crying too. My mom then prayed that the flowers would take root, survive, thrive and continue to be a joy to our family for many years to come.

Over the last few days I have been giving my flowers a major dose of TLC. I have been checking the soil, keeping an eye on the leaves, watering, and watching the sun to make sure they are not getting too much sunlight.

I have thought a lot about my grandma in the last week. She loved flowers. You name it, she could tell you about it. If you didn't know the name of it, she could tell you. I truly believe I got my love of flowers from her. My knowledge is not near as vast as hers, but I do very much appreciate their beauty. My dad told me she would be so proud to know these plants mean so much to me. I feel they are more than blooms...they are heirlooms.