We made our getaway, Flaming Katy and I,
on a hot July day.
Packed up the car and drove north
to the quiet house on the lake
in the small mountain town
where peace awaits me
when I can't find it anywhere else.
I ran away with Katy and the gang
and when we arrived at our destination,
I carefully arranged the flowerpots on the back patio and dock
overlooking the lake
where Katy with her fern and tricolor plant,
and the huge glossy peace lily and the basket of African violets
and the beautiful big container garden
could bathe in the rain and bask in the sun
or just enjoy the mountain air
as I tried to come to terms
with the event that brought us together:
my son Rader's suicide the month before.
We were inundated with flower arrangements—
so many that after the funeral, we gave some away
to the friends and neighbors who had
cared for us in every way those first few days.
But the houseplants I kept
because it helps me to care for them
and I feel rewarded when they thrive
and challenged to rise to the occasion when they falter
but the stakes are low;
it's not too much pressure.
I think Flaming Katy needs a new, bigger pot,
and a little less water,
but the African violets are blooming
and the peace lily—
from the class of 2019 at Rader's high school, his class—
is thriving.
I took the plants on vacation with me
partly because I hadn't had them long enough
to give anyone else instructions
on how to care for them in my absence.
But also I just like to have them around
and so maybe this summer
we'll run away together again.
————-
National Poetry Month
Today's prompt was to take the name of a plant for your title and write from there. Flaming Katy seemed like the obvious choice.
