Both my parents were children during the Great Depression. They learned their lessons early - to use what one had, patch what could be saved, and be extremely careful with money. Dad was a handyman's handyman; it seemed he could repair everything from a toaster to a tractor. Mom did her part by SAVING. EVERYTHING. Milk cartons, twist ties, magazines, aluminum pie plates, toilet paper rolls. Though we rarely needed any of those things, she was a hero come VBS craft time!
Yet, she did allow herself occasional treats. A book, or a dress. Maybe even a new hat. And we were allowed these treats on occasion as well, a toy, bubble stuff, orangeade from Seaboard's drug store. Mom called these treats "hyacinths."
Dad's love of poetry ran deep and strong and he often astonished me by repeating a lengthy poem in it's entirety. Mom had fewer poems by heart most notably The Cremation of Sam McGee. But the one she recited most often was a short one attributed to a Persian poet Sadi.
If of they mortal goods thou art bereft,
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left,
Sell one, and with the doleBuy hyacinths to feed thy soul.
My mom, my sister, and I have lived our lives truly appreciating the little extras. When one of us received a little something new just for us, she'd say "Well, you needed a little hyacinth."
So yesterday, when the Instacart delivery arrived, I presented Mom with a springtime "hyacinth." Because she needed it.
