Blossoms. That’s what wafts into my nose each time I remember her. Sweet-smelling flowers that decorated your nostrils and brought your eyes to blissful tears. It took a while but I learnt to stop crying each time I thought of Mrs. Glory. These days when I think of her, I smile. It’s still a bitter-sweet smile but it’s a smile nonetheless.
Mrs Glory moved into the neighbourhood with her husband more than a decade after we started living there. Her house was directly opposite ours and our fence wasn’t that high up then so we could see her from the dining room and wave at her and she’d wave back enthusiastically.
To date, I’d never seen anyone that captured the hearts of the whole neighbourhood so quickly and effortlessly. She came in like a smooth breeze and everyone accepted her wholeheartedly. Because of past events, we didn’t really associate with a lot of people around there but she was Iike a glue that kept us all together.
I can never forget when her good nature thawed the icy tension in the environment. My youngest sibling suddenly had pneumonic attacks. My parents were at a loss. No one in the family had ever suffered pneumonic attacks so we were beginning to panic. Then she heard the commotion and came in, asking for basic items like palm oil and some other things that I was too frightened to remember. She administered them to her and the next thing, the seizure stopped and my sister was calm. We looked at Mrs Glory with eyes of undiluted admiration. She became a part of the family from then on.
One of the most profound attributes that characterized her was her laugh. She usually laughed with such unapologetic abandon. It’s what made us know she was around. You’d hear her laughter and her shrieks streets away as she’d claim that someone was trying to cheat at the board game. She adored board games, that’s a given.
You didn’t dare win her at a board game. It’s either she won or she playfully threatened whoever was about to win that they wouldn’t get the slightest taste of her special cookies. At the risk of not eating those wonderful cookies, we’d eagerly back down.
I was always eager to pass by her house when I knew she was there because the praises you’d receive would give you such a confidence booster, nothing and no one could make you feel bad about yourself. I remember being late to events a couple of times because I’d wait for her to come out just so I can receive my daily dose of praise.
She’d say things like “Ah, Tess, with this dress, you’re definitely going to cause traffic on the road.” Or things like “Please try to come early because, with this hairdo, those men won’t give you breathing space.” And I’d blush and chide her playfully for saying such “untrue” things.
Mrs Glory was middle-aged and had married late in life. She had a little son of about two years old and we rejoiced with her when she told us she was pregnant for another baby, which she said with all conviction that it would be a girl.
She passed away as she delivered that beautiful girl and I remember that for days no one in the neighbourhood talked. It’s like we became dumb. Our noisy, lively street was deaf silent. We couldn’t believe it. I kept going to the dining to do my routine wave to see if she’d wave back. I loved her so much, I became delirious. I’d stand and keep waving and even when my folks tried to draw me back, I’ll start convincing them that Mrs. Glory would come out any minute now and wave back.
She never did though and I had to accept it. But this post is not about mourning. It’s about celebration. The celebration of the sunshine of the neighbourhood. The celebration of a woman whose smile could light up the universe.
I said she reminded me of blossoms because of the three little trees in front of her house. It had no fruits but just sprouted gorgeous little flowers. The flowers were always blooming and were in tune with her laugh. They stopped sprouting after she died.
But for three days in April of each year which was about the time she passed away, those flowers bloomed so beautifully. A reminder to us that she’ll always be in our minds and our hearts. I choose to give this memorial to Mrs Glory today. A woman of life and love and peace.
All images are mine.
This is my response to the Dreemport Challenge. Let's keep those memories alive.❤️
