Four weeks ago today was Mother’s Day.  Jean had been in the hospital since Wednesday evening and I wanted to spend the day with her and celebrate the occasion.  Saturday I choose a card at a drugstore close to the hospital, but I decided not to bring flowers because friends had already brought so many wonderful bouquets – including a beautiful purple orchid

Before leaving for the hospital early Sunday morning, I took a photo of the miniature forsythia bush in the front garden.  I knew that Jean was missing being with the garden, and especially at this time of year.  After the snowdrops  and crocuses, the forsythia was the flagbearer of spring with the daffodils and tulips in tow.  On the tablet I showed her the little burst of yellow in the garden and smile lit up her face.

Later in the morning, a physiotherapist came by for her session – helping her take a few steps, a light massage to loosen up the stuff in her lungs, and setting her up in the chair door a few hours sitting upright.  She asked his name and hearing it was Peter, she said oh, we have a friend called Peter.  He is always out knocking on doors and talking to people in his riding about what is on their minds. Therapist Peter said, he sounds like a man of the people.  Jean oh yes, and he also wear sensible shoes like you do.