Picking Weeds
When I was really young, before we moved to East Hampton, we used to live in a town called Selden. We lived about two blocks from my elementary school. To close for the bus to come pick me up, but in Kindergarten and first grade it was too far for me to safely walk by myself. My mom would pick me up every afternoon on her lunch break and then I would go to the daycare center at the racket ball club where she worked.
She always had time to kill, because my school was literally half a block from her job. She used to make small talk with some of the other moms in the carpool lane. Gossiping with the other moms for a half hour or so before zipping us across the street.
I remember there used to be this enormous grassy island between the parking lot and the bus loop. I remember running around it with my friends and picking bouquets of Dandelions and this small white flowers that were ground covers and giving them to my mother. I did it every day for weeks. I felt really really proud of those bundles of weeds. Like I was providing something. Pampering her.
I don't know why those weeds are running through a loop in my mind today but they are.
I can't shake the memory of them.
I've had better days.
She always had time to kill, because my school was literally half a block from her job. She used to make small talk with some of the other moms in the carpool lane. Gossiping with the other moms for a half hour or so before zipping us across the street.
I remember there used to be this enormous grassy island between the parking lot and the bus loop. I remember running around it with my friends and picking bouquets of Dandelions and this small white flowers that were ground covers and giving them to my mother. I did it every day for weeks. I felt really really proud of those bundles of weeds. Like I was providing something. Pampering her.
I don't know why those weeds are running through a loop in my mind today but they are.
I can't shake the memory of them.
I've had better days.