Normal

Yesterday my mom and I went to the art museum. 

My friend, Liz had told me about the fantastic Art in Bloom exhibit and I couldn’t help but think of my mom. The exhibit, held annually at the Milwaukee Art Museum, challenges local floral artists to create arrangements with specific pieces of art as inspiration. Florists don’t get to choose the art, rather, pieces are assigned and off they go, letting their imaginations run wild as they build incredible floral designs.

My mom loves flowers, more specifically, she loves designing floral arrangements. Growing up, I remember how she could take the simplest elements, mosses, sticks, a single flower, and build something eye catching. Given a bouquet she would stand back, gauging heights and textures, and create the extraordinary.

She made it look so easy.

And while the description of the exhibit had immediately made me think of her, I wondered if she would accept the invitation. 

My mom is 96, still living on her own. She needs more help now to maintain her independent life. Apart from trips into town for groceries and necessary outings, her world is pretty much her home. I see her every Thursday when we catch up and run errands. She no longer drives– is always the passenger. 

She said yes.

And so yesterday morning, Liz and I picked mom up. I loaded a wheelchair in the back of the car, not knowing the distances involved. I’d packed little lunch snacks to eat along the way. Off we went. She rode shotgun, commenting on the changes along the route, reminding me that it had been years since she had ridden through the Milwaukee area.

We found parking, and wheelchair and all, made our way across the skywalk to the art center. We marveled at the building we were about to enter–snowy white wings extended, etched against a dark sky. Once inside, our nostrils were filled with the fragrance of thousands of flowers as we began our hunt for each installation. Liz kept track of the route that took us through the entire museum, while I navigated with mom and the wheelchair.

We were dazzled. 

Walking slowly around each arrangement, we marveled at the mastery of interpretation, the deftness of texture and color and line. Mom named the flowers, one by one. 

Heading back home, Mom turned to me and said “I felt normal today for the first time since I can remember.” She is insulated, you see, as everyone around her works to make sure she is safe and has what she needs. I am in “helper” mode when I’m with her, doing my best to listen and respond.

But yesterday we were in mother daughter mode. We were in girlfriend mode. Our eyes, rather than focusing on her and her needs, were focused outward, on art and color and light. The walls of our worlds pushed out just a bit. Our views expanded.

We are planning our next adventure.