The world is such a mess. I bought tulips. The photo doesn’t do them Justice, even though I fiddled with it a little. The color is closer to pink than in the photo, but with a salmon hue. Fleshy. Tulips continue to grow after they’ve been cut. I selected a taller vase with that in mind.

Some of my ancestors came from Ukraine, both the ones murdered by the Nazis and the ones who’d emigrated to the U.S. decades before WWII. Some came from Belarus and some from Eastern Poland. Imperialism changed the borders, people changed the names from time to time. By car all those shtetls are not more than a day’s drive from each other. No amount of conquest will make Putin feel better about himself, but he can’t figure that out.

I bought the tulips at the florist’s down the street. Flowers from the supermarket are never as fresh. The florist is more interested in beauty and in horticulture. Mostly, it makes me feel good to shop at local merchants. The woman at the shop wrapped them so nicely.

Really the photograph is of my mother, in the picture behind the flowers. You have to look hard to see. My son’s wedding. She was there. Dementia hadn’t quite then gotten the better of her. It’s only a month since she passed. Now I’ve obstructed her.

I could say I’m glad she’s not here to see what’s going on, but it wouldn’t be true. It’s true I’m glad she’s not distressed. In her final weeks so many of the hallucinations involved Nazi’s coming to get her.

The President of Ukraine is Jewish. As unbelievable as everything else. My mother would have liked the tulips. Pink was her favorite color.

Alte

And Now This