Gifts

My wonderful Dad has Alzheimer’s. Like my Dad,  I tend to look back a lot at scattered moments.  One I will never forget is opening my birthday gift this year, from my Dad.  With the help of his caregiver and my Mom, my Dad was able and proud to gather, wash and paint ordinary rocks.  They are not so ordinary any more.  Each is brilliantly colored and  labeled with the name of a family member.

I felt it only fitting to present my gift to a small section of my yard.  It holds many memories of moments. The bird feeder was constructed by my kids and husband and incorporates marbles belonging to my father-in law’s childhood.  The bricks comprising the circle and the rose planting came from my grandparent’s yard.  The violets were lovingly transplanted from my parent’s home one stiflingly hot day by my Dad.  The pig was a gift from my in-laws as a house warming present over twenty years ago.

I remember playing in my grandparent’s yard.  I remember mentioning to my Dad that I coveted his violets.  I remember moving into my home, when my kids were small and were most often involved in making something meaningful.