I'll be honest, April is a massive downer for us. We try to find the funny, the memories, and the joy associated with both family members. But sometimes, it's just really darn difficult. With everything that is going on in the world with Covid-19, I have often thought, "What would my mom and Jason think of all of this?" There is so much I would like to ask my mom about, in regards to all of this. She'd probably say, "Home quarantine isn't so bad now that there's Internet. Think about what life was like during World War II, or if there'd been a quarantine BEFORE Internet?" I'm sure both of them would find it rather fascinating and worrisome at the same time. Both of them would have the same worries I do as a teacher. How are my kids? Are they getting enough to eat? Are they getting enough support at home to do assignments? Psychologically, how are they?
Before Spring Break, I was having a discussion during indoor recess (because it RAINED so much!) with the kids that are in 4th grade but also in my craft club. We were looking for fun activities to do should we ever be able to meet up again for the club. I came across a tutorial on how to make tissue paper flowers. I then proceeded to tell my kids about the memory I had of tissue paper flowers, rain, and fire.
When I was younger, we'd gone to Six Flags. My mom had made sure that my sisters and I all had tissue paper flowers that you could get there. They were HUGE and had a dowel rod stem. I can't remember the actual time of year, but I do remember that my sisters and I were stuck inside because it was raining. We were trying to entertain ourselves. My mom was really awesome about letting us (my sisters and I) use our imaginations. If she had what we needed, and could spare it, she let us have it.
I remember I had my tissue paper flower and was dancing around the dining room with it. For some reason (I might've knocked something over), I bent down to pick up whatever was on the floor. I popped back up and put the item on the dining room table. Someone started screaming, and when I turned around, my tissue paper flower was on fire. Apparently, when I bent down to pick up what was on the floor, my flower had found itself in extremely close proximity to a burning candle. I held the dowel rod in front of me and started screaming as well.
I had no clue what to do. I didn't want to drop it on the floor, but the stupid thing was BURNING! My mom ran in probably said something extremely creative to avoid using foul language, grabbed the dowel rod, swung the front door open and tossed the whole thing out into the rain. I was sobbing for several reasons: 1) I was scared, 2) I felt HORRIBLE I'd wasted my mom's money, and 3) my flower was gone.
Going to Six Flags was a special event for us. That place can be expensive, so we didn't go often. I had accepted that I wouldn't be getting a replacement flower anytime soon. However, one day, when I got home from being somewhere else, I found a tissue paper flower on a dowel rod on my bed. It wasn't one like you'd get a Six Flags. It was better. Because my mom had made me one to replace the one I'd set on fire.
So during the time of self-quaratine, shelter in place, social distancing, and depressing April, I thought, "Why not. I've got the time now." They're not the flowers you'd find on dowel rods at amusement parks. They're memories of my mom.
And fire, rain, and the love of a mother.
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