Last Sunday, March 1, was the birthday of my youngest sister Mary Teresa. I’ve written about her before. She did not like me to call her my “baby sister.” Because I went off to college before she even started kindergarten, I hardly knew her until the last years of her life. Even though she was on my mind all day Sunday, I didn’t write because I was celebrating St. David’s Day with Gale and her family at the Welsh Society song fest.
This week I’ve noticed that my mother’s African violets are still blooming. They’ve been in bloom since Thanksgiving, but these blossoms are a new set that arrived in the last month. I’ve always referred to them as my mother’s African violets, but it occurred to me that Mary T was the one who brought them to me after our mother died. Now these flowers are another lovely reminder of Mary to add to the sweet and happy memories I found last summer while packing to move to Philadelphia.