May First 2013

On May 1, I remember my grandmother, OMA.

She loved May,  I think, because she remembered her birthday would be shortly thereafter on May 19.  Her warm and friendly smile was highlighted by her white hair gently pulled back into a soft bun with waves along her forehead,  two grays stripes: one at each temple. She wore gold wire-rimmed glasses as long as I can remember. Very often she wore pearl clip on earrings and a pearl necklace. May 1 was important because she would go outside and pick lilies of the valley and violets. She would gather them up into a small whiskey glass or shot glass and put them on the kitchen table. Couple of times I gathered up some lilies of the valley and violets, but she would correct me by saying, "You need to add more greenery to your bouquet."

In her life there always had to be balance, balance between the green and the flowers, balance between the formal and informal, balance between sleeping and waking, balance between work and play. She did not really understand why my mother worked so hard day and night for ballet and training her students.
When I compare my mother and my grandmother I see one person devoted to the art of ballet and working fiendishly for that cause.  The other person lives in a world of art and imagination seeing things from the perspective of a flower child, finding it hard to step outside the roles they've been given in a play and act any other way. On the one hand you have a business woman, on the other a dreamer. It is almost as if one was part of the working class and one was nobility.
To say there was constant strife between my mother and grandmother would have been no exaggeration. As the youngest in our household I took the role of the peacemaker trying to find compromise where there was no compromise possible. My brother, Tyll, took the role of the clown trying to make everyone laugh, trying to divert everyone's attention from the seriousness and heartbreak of our situation. He seemed to be quite successful, but this was not always a good lesson for him to take with him or his future.

Oma was the person that was there for me, that I could share ideas, that would talk to me, that was home for me when I came home from school. She shared my dolls with me when I played, and made meals for me when I was hungry.

Even though generations and years separated us she taught me so much.  She is the reason I am WHO I am today. She taught me what inner beauty is, she taught me what a calm, loving soul is, and she gave me stories from my past heritage.

May is the time of bouquets of lilies of the valley and violets. It is also the time of the sweet scent of the lily of the valley, which my grandmother often used in her drawer to scent all of her clothes.

I wonder if they still sell soap with the scent of the Lily of the valley?  I think I'm becoming my grandmother. I want my clothes to smell like the Lily of the Valley. And I'm going outside to pick some flowers.