My Father's Lilacs

My father always brought home an armful of lilacs for my mother’s birthday and she would greet them with all the surprise and delight of an ingénue receiving her first corsage.

It was a glimpse of their love, their emotional intimacy, that I seldom saw except when they sweetly called each other yingle (young boy) and maydle (young girl) in Yiddish.

She grew up in Wilno, Poland and the lilacs must have reminded her of home. Nowadays, her city is in Lithuania and boasts “Lilac Hill” in its Botanical Gardens which are home to almost two hundred varieties of lilac.

Because of her, I had a row of lilacs planted soon after I bought a house in Michigan but they didn’t fare very well over several decades. It was a struggle tending to them.

However, a hardy Miss Kim lilac next to our house has flourished year after year and when the window behind it is open (see above), the heady fragrance fills our entire house.

It reminds me of my parents, the depth of their bond, and home.

Happy Father’s Day this weekend!

Lev Raphael is a first-generation American whose parents bequeathed to him a double vision of life in the United States. He’s the prize-winning author of twenty-seven books in genres from memoir to mystery and has forty years of experience as a teacher, author, editor, and mentor. You can contact him for editing if you’re working on personal essays or short fiction. His website for writers is https://www.writewithoutborders.com.