The Savoring No. 030 Flowers, Gingham & Disliking Your Mother

There in the darkness, are those flowers?,” she asked.

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It wasn’t until my mother died that I found a way to like her. I loved her. Always.

She was an addict. They’re easy to love and hard to like. In my teen years I hated her, and I would tell her. Often.

I was an awful daughter. She deserved what she got. She was an awful mother. We spent a lifetime, side by side, trying to find our way to each other only to be denied. Never completing the journey. She died in 2013. Perhaps if we’d had more time.

When I was a young girl the houses with people who were wealthy, and un-divorced always had floral pillows, bedding and curtains.

I dreamt of living inside one of those homes. I just knew they were happy. The mothers made breakfast for their kids. Packed beautiful lunches with love. They sat at a table each evening for family dinners. They laughed together and talked about school and hobbies. They took family trips and their holidays were magical.

When I turned 16, I walked in the front door, said hello to my mom and escaped to my bedroom. I opened the door expecting to walk into the usual disaster of clothes piled so high there was no finding the floor. Instead, my room was clean. The nasty mold-gathering glasses and plates that covered my nightstands and dresser were gone. The piles of clothes, gone.

Every inch of my perfectly cleaned room was covered in the most beautiful floral fabric. The curtains, the bedding, the pillows. I stared, stunned. My mother stayed in the living room waiting for my reaction. I didn’t move. I just stood there.

She finally walked up behind me and softly asked if I liked it. I could hear the uncertainty in her voice. The fear it wasn’t right, that she might have disappointed me yet again. A softness, a vulnerability. We hugged. I remember I cried after she left my room.

It wasn’t long before we were back to screaming at each other. Before she would be arrested, my beautiful floral bedding would be impounded with everything else we owned. It wasn’t long before I remembered what I didn’t like about her.

But I never forgot the way I felt that day. She loved me even if the drugs had taken away her ability to be a good mom. It was there that day. The thing I longed for. In one lucid, kind moment, she showed me I mattered.

When I see floral prints, I remember that day. The way I felt. I think of her with a softened heart. I’ve spent the last year and a half journaling, in therapy, healing. I’m slowly working through some of the trauma.

I’m finding my way to liking her. I’m digging through the darkness and finding the flowers.

No. 01 This Week’s Theme Song
The House That Built Me reminds me so much of a little house I lived in with my dad during my middle school and freshmen year of high school. It sat right off a busy highway and we used to watch the sun set over that highway well into the 9:00 hour.

I told him a few years ago that it makes me think of him and he texts me every now and then to let me know he is enjoying a glass of wine on his back porch and the song came on and he is thinking of me. I love you dad. Happy Father’s Day!

I was looking through a drawer of photos this week and came across these two. I’d never realized how much I looked like my mother on our respective wedding days. On the right is my mom and dad and my mother’s mom (my Mimi) on their wedding day. On the left my dad walking me down the aisle.

No. 02 This Image of My Mom
I also found this one. At my wedding I had another extremely special moment with my mom. She was lovely, dancing with a good friend of ours and having the time of her life. I loved watching her have so much fun. The next day she asked me, “Did I embarrass you?”

“You were fabulous,” I said to her. And I meant it. It is the last happy memory I have of her.

Maybe someday I will find my way to write about it. For today, I’ve shed too many tears writing the story above. (That is my handsome brother with her.)

These White Hydrangeas
I was able to cut these hydrangeas from my yard this week. They are one of my most favorites and after many failed years trying to grow them, they are finally starting to thrive. One of the many lessons in patience gardening has taught me.

No. 03 These Florals and That Gingham
I’ve been redoing some of the spaces in our home. I got a bit too far from my beginnings and a bit too California and I wanted to bring more of my Indiana roots into the spaces in our house. I decided to pay homage to my 16 year old bedroom, and my mom, and have some fun with the florals.

I am a sucker for florals paired with a stripe, plaid or gingham. In another tribute to my roots, I am redoing my bedrooms with color. When I was growing up in Indiana, people’s bedrooms had color. “Which bedroom,” you would ask? The red one or brown one or blue one, someone would say. This will be the “red one” in our home. The other guest room is the “brown one”.

I snagged these brown gingham pillows, scalloped pillows and floral pillows (the florals are on clearance at Pottery Barn) for outside. I will share photos next week after they all arrive and get placed.

I also bought chicken and goat figurines. Oh. Yes. I. Did.

No. 04 This Seasonal Recipe
I love cooking with what’s in season and blueberries are my current it girl. I snagged a bunch at the farmer’s market to make my favorite blueberry muffins.

No. 05 This Space to Breathe
I got to visit this property last week and it was a solid hour of exhaling.

No. 06 These Words to Live By
”Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” Attributed to Victor Frankl

As someone who has struggled mightily with anxiety, this speaks to me. So often it’s the thought that wrecks me. The one I don’t even know I’ve had. When I can slow down, and focus on this space in between, I can regain control.

No. 07 This, My New Series Obsession
I Love DICK. Kevin Bacon and Kathryn Hahn are perfection. I am devouring it. I’m planning a trip to Marfa, TX at the end of this month and this is making me eager to get there.

No. 08 This Woman, This Book
When I was diagnosed with leukemia in 2023 everyone kept telling me I MUST read Between Two Kingdoms by Suleika Jouad.

I tried and had to put it down. It was too triggery for someone newly diagnosed and battling leukemia.

She has inspired me continuously over the last year and a half. She had a second stem cell transplant and continues to fight this disease with bravery, boldness and creativity. She has, in so many ways, created a survival playbook for me.

Her new book, The Book of Alchemy, is a guide to connecting, or reconnecting, with your creativity through journaling. Journaling is as good for you as vitamin c. Maybe better. I highly recommend you find your way into this book.

No. 09 This White Button Up
White button ups are tricky. Like a good pair of jeans, it’s hard to find the right one. This one is my current favorite. It’s forgiving, wears well with jeans or shorts, can be used as a bathing suit cover up or just worn around the house with a pair of sweats because it’s so soft it feels like sweats.

I have it in a medium. I’m 5’.7” and a 34 large C.

No. 010 This Savoring Challenge
Introducing the weekly Savoring Challenge. Each week I will offer you a simple way to savor your week a bit more than usual.

This week’s challenge is to look for a bird or butterfly each day and really notice it. The colors, the texture, the movement. Study it. Savor it.

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AND just like that, another Savoring is in the books.

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