When Lilacs Last

It’s lilac time.  It’s spring.  Again.  There is a genial symmetry to the earth’s rotation.  I keep track of such things.

I have always loved lilacs.  Poets and florists claim they represent the “first emotions of love.”  I don’t know about that, but I do know that one cannot look at the delicate blossoms and not be cheered.

I always pick lilacs, in spite of fervent vows to refrain from temptation, and society’s prohibitions against violating private property.  They usually belong on the bushes of neighbors foolish enough to sleep past 4:00 a.m., thus exposing their shrubs to the felonious whimsy of Local Insomniacs.

Lilacs in a vase quiet the house with their scent and calm the world after the ravages of winter.  But they are only granted a two-week stay, so time cannot be squandered with personal integrity by limiting one’s acquisition of them.  Besides, universal laws of accountability are suspended during lilac time.

T. S. Eliot proclaimed April  the cruelest month.  Charles Dickins wrote, “It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times.”  I suppose both authors bear witness that life is bi-polar. Duly noted. Mortality, it seems, is comprised for the most part of ironic juxtapositions. There is so much to celebrate, even though our burdens have not been unprotested.

Lilac time is fleeting.  Tempus fugit.  If we don’t want to lose our corridor of understanding, we must express our love mostly in short, declarative sentences that leave no doubt as to the content of our hearts.  Lilac time runs contrary to the longer, more languid growing seasons of other flowers that allow one to be vague.

Lilacs insist that we sanctify our lives.

Dennis was cured  just a year ago, as  lilacs bloomed.  I will experience the anniversary.  In my personal corridor of understanding, I have been taught things that swallow any prior knowledge.  Painful stuff happens to everyone, and sometimes we stagger and stumble under the weight of it all.  But wisdom comes through the grace of pain, healing from courage, dignity from enduring.

Lilacs instruct us to be of good cheer, to be strong and competent.  Theirs is a fragrance of hope.

Sometimes it is good to shut off the mind, allow a greater power to take over, and heal.  There is a place within to stand as witness, to change direction toward greater tranquility, stability, calm, peace.  The  soul can restore itself, and go forward.

Dennis and I were never ones to give flowers.  It seemed unnecessary. I will make an exception on Friday.  They will be lilacs.