“Lilacs don’t last very long,” a friend once complained when I said how much I loved them. It’s true. The fragrant purple flowers bloom quickly here, bursting forth on the first warm day, but all it takes is one hard rainstorm or one day of unseasonable heat – and the flowers are gone again. They are here for such a short time that I never get sick of the heady scent, or the amazing color.
Lilacs bloom during the season of transition. Last weekend, Shaggy Hair Boy graduated from college. This summer, he’ll start a program that will give him experience teaching high school math and eventually, a graduate degree. Skater Boy, the extra we’ve known since he was little, graduated as well. He’s got a job developing software for an engineering firm. Yeah, I know. That all sounds so very grown up.
Boy-in-Black turned 25 last weekend. He's a physicist. Beautiful Smart Wonderful Daughter works in the clinic as a therapist while she's getting her PhD. First Extra, whom we've known since second grade, works as an accountant. With-a-Why graduates from high school next month. He is playing Chopin on the piano as I write this.
They all just keep getting older. When I gather a bunch of lilacs and put them in a vase, I stop to smell the flowers, to breathe in the scent, to appreciate the flowers while they last.