Before my family moved to India in the mid 50’s, we lived in Concord, New Hampshire. Spectacularly dramatic New England seasons, color and foliage emphasizing the passion of it all. When we moved to India, the drama was no less but truly an entirely different planet. One of the most spectacular discoveries, for my 7-year-old self was the purple wafty blossomy umbrella-ish jacaranda tree. The very first time was out a train window when we were brand new to India and my mother said ‘OH LOOK!!” And later…my sister and I found one that was barely beginning to loose its blooms, we sat under it so that they would drift down on us…purple flowers from heaven blanketing us…our own special magic.
I had no idea that these trees inhabited anywhere else on the planet, until I moved to LA, 24 years ago.
Eighteen years ago my father came to visit for his 90th birthday. My mother had died a few months before and this man, vibrant, vital in every way, experienced a broken heart so profoundly that his physical heart broke and he landed in St. John’s hospital in Santa Monica…for 105 days in ICU…from February 20 to May 23…my mothers birthday.
During this chapter, Norman and I stayed with him…every minute…Norman teaching him Buddhist meditation (so funny, as Dad was a Congregational minister…open forever, but this was FUNNY) and I was coming up with stories outside the window and from inside my rather expansive imagination…BUT when the jacarandas began to come into bloom, they became a symbol of something else. I scooped up blossoms and brought them to Dad, made up stories about them every day, (again so funny, because some of them included Hindu god delivery stories, as he was being strewn with the blooms)…but these came to connect him to memories of my mother and India and the gift of life…of his life. Just when the jacarandas in Santa Monica dropped their last flowers, May 23rd arrived…and Dad gave himself to Mom for her birthday.
Jacaranda blossoms, now in bloom though dropping, bring back lost loves in beauty to my mind…my sister, my mother and my father.
How WONDROUS is this world?