I am always amazed and touched at the importance Europeans place upon flowers. Especially southern Europeans. Each market seems to offer a wonderful variety. And I love watching people carrying their flower purchases home with them. I’m surprised each time when I see again Roman matrons carrying their flowers with the lower stem ends in their hands and the blossoms pointed downward toward the pavement. Just the opposite of how we tend to carry flowers here.
Memories of Klaus and his weekly purchases of flowers from the Friday street market. He carried them stems-up, blossoms-down lest they wilt. I haven't bought flowers since his death. His vases are empty, collecting dust. A pang of grief shoots through me, not unlike the pain from stubbing a big toe. But, like stubbing a toe, I know it will hurt like the dickens for a moment, almost unbearably so. But not quite unbearably so. And then the pain will subside. I know it will. It's called coping with grief.
ReplyDelete