M-DAY AMIDST THE WILD DAFFODILS

Today, I’d like to recall a special Mother’s Day.

If you‘re a regular reader, you know my blog could easily be subtitled: DIE MOMMY BITCHES DIE! However, this posting involves little to do with either of my mothers. That is why this memory is so dear and precious to me.

The year was 1980. Mother’s Day, I found myself in Scotland. The atmosphere was bright and fragrant with spring. An invigorating chill filled the air. The heather would not be in bloom till autumn, but wild daffodils grew abundantly. The rugged beauty of Scotland was spellbinding with scenic lochs abounding, so many I couldn’t remember all their names.

Usually I took my vacations in the fall when tours abroad were cheaper. Plus our business was slower then. It didn’t start to pick-up until the season got underway in November. However, I had just lost my job of nearly a decade. So this time I grabbed the 1^st available date for a tour of England, Scotland, and Wales.

Deciding to retire, Dad had just sold our family business, a florist shop with a wedding chapel. Now I was unemployed and would face an uncertain future upon returning home.

At least I would no longer be enduring Mother’s Day hell! It was a solid week of 8:00 AM to 8:00 PM phones ringing non-stop, hordes of customers wall-to-wall accompanied by hand-wringing and hair-pulling stress. It’s the most hectic and profitable time of the year in the florist business.    

To my surprise, among the group were 2 floral designers. I asked why they weren’t working. -- In our shop, not showing up for this week was a firing offense! They just giggled and shrugged.

However, this Mother’s Day Sunday we were lodged in a rural family-owned establishment in the Scottish countryside. My room was spacious with a gorgeous bucolic view. In one corner were a burner, kettle, teapot, cups, and fixings so I could enjoy tea anytime. A warming touch!

Outside were fields of flowers and gently rolling pasture with grazing sheep. I went for a walk in the fragrant spring air. Wild daffodils flourished along the narrow roadside. Soon, 3 other ladies from our group joined me. We came upon a meadow with horses. Eager for attention, one trotted up to the fence to greet us. We laughed and joked as the path curved steeply up a hill. Down the other side was a tiny Scottish hamlet with several small shops. One was a Bakery.

Naturally, the fancy pastries caught my eye. I purchased several and carried them back to my room. There, I made tea to enjoy with my sweets. As I sat savoring them, I thought about how different this Mother’s Day was from what I had become accustomed.

I recalled the previous year; the mad rush with all of those impatient last-minute customers. Many were nasty! One was a drunken woman who phoned to place an order, but refused to give me any billing info. “It’s none of your business!” she said. When I made it clear her mom would not be receiving any flowers without it, she became verbally abusive.

“Take your business to another florist!” I hollered and hung up. She immediately phoned back and tried to get me fired. My dad told me, he understood and just to forget it. Of course it’s the kind of thing you never forget, which just becomes funnier over time.

Then there was the vile woman who told me what the initials FTD really stood for! She almost spat the words! -- Actually it was the out-of-state florist who dropped the ball, not FTD!

These are just 2 of many examples. But that was all over, now. I was out of the florist business forever. This day was serene and beautiful.

I left a job I’d come to hate. However as compensation, I was able enjoy an awesome vacation every year! Unfortunately, my steady paycheck was now gone. This was to be my final trip abroad. Soon, life would slowly spiral downward into a dark place where I would be for two long decades. A place where I would give up all hope of seeing light.

But this day in Scotland the atmosphere was radiant. Everything seemed to glow. I felt sublime! At home, it would have just been another Sunday. My mother received zero on Mother’s Day, always! It was payback for never acknowledging my birthday as a child, not to mention all the physical battering and mental abuse. Later, I would have a stepmother of similar ilk.

The following day, my group boarded our motorcoach for Glasgow. The Inn’s owners, the entire family stood waving us off, dog at their side. This had been one of my favorite spots of the entire trip.

This memory is a cherished one. It is every bit as vivid as all of those ugly ones that happened before and the awful and miserable things later to come. But with time, the negative memories have lost their power over me. This one remains strong.