In the corner of the living room, next to a floral covered futon couch, a potted geranium has decided to sprout bright red blossoms in the
middle of a worldwide pandemic. Colors so vibrant and alive, petals stand like stoic soldiers, lifting fear and anxiety from the moment.
People are dying right now and my own mother sits in isolation in a care home. We can’t see her. It’s as if something is breaking in me.
My mother loved geraniums, always planted them each spring outside our home by the sea, always red.
Finding unexpected beauty, a universal link of being, is a healing salve for my soul. Mom is here with me….