The violets in our yard bloomed white the year after my mom died. I turned nineteen a few months before their halcyon heads craned through the sharp green blades of grass, pure and at peace. In our neighbor’s yard, purple. Our violets were white.
My mother’s given name was Ljubičica— Violet when translated from Serbian to English. Despite my doubts, since I remember them as the blue-grey of a barely overcast sky, her sisters confirm it as canon: the baby of the family was named for her eyes, the color of purple wild flowers in dewy spring grass.
- – – To continue reading, please follow this link to Mother’s Always Write where this micro-essay was published on May 30th, 2017 – the 21st anniversary of my mom’s passing.