By Lorry Myers
My grandson, Ivan, looks for the same things at a garage sale: Pokémon cards, well-loved jerseys, or random figurines he doesn’t need. None of those items were at this neighborhood sale but then, something unexpected caught Ivan’s attention.
Flowers.
These were not Lego flowers or ones freshly cut that would die in a few days. These flowers were not like any I’d ever seen. Sticks of all sizes were wrapped with green material to create stems and attached to each one were blossoms of every color. The blooms were made of bright fabric that had been artfully twisted and tied in a way that made you want to reach for one.
These were not ordinary flowers.
I was surprised when Ivan went up to the owner and ask about the flowers. Tracie Roberts is a familiar face in our community and like many of us in small towns, my family has been intertwined with her family for many, many years.
Tracie is one of our people.
Tracie quickly asked why Ivan wanted the flowers, and I leaned in to hear his answer. “My mom is having a hard time right now,” my grandson said in a quiet voice. “These flowers will make her happy and won’t ever die.” Tracie quickly told Ivan that he could have as many as he wanted and then both of us of wiped our eyes as we watched a little boy handpick a handful of flowers.
Ivan’s mom was happy, and the flowers are still alive.
When my sister, Lindy, called that morning, I pulled out my suitcase and cried while I packed. Lindy has a house on an island in Wisconsin and lives every day with Lake Superior out her window. That morning, my sister woke to find her husband had passed away beside her and now, she was alone and waiting for what comes next.
That night, I reached out to Tracie.
For the complete article, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard
