Everywhere, the Lilacs, by Elise C. Boucher

Lily sat beside the lilacs, breathing the scent of the blossoms. She loved that smell. It would always bring her back to her childhood, and in her mind’s eye, she replayed a memory.
She was playing in the yard, the sky overcast, and the damp air heady with the spring lilacs. She looked up from her game to see her raven-haired mother cutting branches laden with lavender blooms. Mom looked to Lily, and smiled, and called, “I’m bringing spring into the house. Come help me!”
And that memory made Lily smile. She shifted her weight and dug around the base of the lilac tree, aerating the plant, then reached over to brush away some of the winter leaves that had accumulated around the base of the headstone. She’d planted this bush on the grave to give her mother another life, a living memory, and the scent of the flowers comforted her with that reminder of rebirth. Finished, she stood. She slapped away some of the dirt from her knees, then began to clip a few blooming branches from the lilac.
“I’ll visit again, soon, Mom,” she said, and her voice was tender.

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