Stop and Smell the Flours

Ryleigh planted a bed of marigolds on her mother’s grave. Marigolds were her mother’s favorite flower. She couldn’t imagine a more precious way to honor her mother. She would come out and water the seeds and watch as the seeds turned into the perfect sunset hued blooms her mother cherished.

Her mother was her role model. She only wished she could become half the woman her mother was to her. Her mother was beautiful. She had long, wavy, thick chestnut colored hair that framed her heart shaped face. Ryleigh longed to be able to stare into her mother’s blue green eyes and gaze upon her mother’s beauty just once again.

But her mother was also just as lovely a lady on the inside as she was appealing on the outside. She had a heart of gold. She helped everyone she knew. She made meals and delivered them to elderly friends. She was always giving kind words of encouragement to people who were having a difficult time. She was always reminding Ryleigh that a kind word builds a future. Ryleigh remembers her mom always saying to her when she had rough times to face “to have courage and be kind”. These very words were ringing through her head.

Her mother always did whatever her family needed her to do. She was the very illustration of strength and dignity. She always had meals on the table at meal time. She had clothing for her children. Her husband always seemed pleased when anyone said anything about his wife. She attended all functions at her children’s schools and helped out where ever needed. She never had a harsh or unkind word for anyone. She gently admonished and diplomatically corrected problems. She was loved by all who knew her.

Ryleigh sat and reminisced of all the fun times and a few bittersweet times she and her mother shared. She remembered making cookies with her at Christmas. The small little flour fights that made them laugh and look silly covered in white. She remembered the nights outside around the firepit making smores and drinking milk. Just seeing her mother’s lovely smiling face and the look of pure delight and enjoyment sent tears of love rolling down her face.

She, then, thought of the last conversation she had with her mother before she died. Her mother’s bedroom was filled with vase after vase of marigolds. Her mother was so weak. She could barely talk. The breast cancer waged a war her mother just couldn’t beat. Ryleigh held her mother’s hand and peered deeply and lovingly in the face she adored and cherished so much. Her mother was giving her advice for Ryleigh’s life after her mother was no longer with her. “Ryleigh, I want you to live. I want you to celebrate life as if it is heaven on earth. Don’t let me be the reason you stay stuck. Baby girl, remember always to have courage and be kind. A kind heart builds a future.”

Her mother was right. Ryleigh would build her future. Ryleigh would live by her mother’s words. Ryleigh would remember the stories of marigolds being the bridge to happiness. Her mother always talked about marigolds taking family members from their grave to heaven. She was endeared at the image in her head of her mom walking a bridge of marigolds more majestic than any other to a perfect place of peace and happiness for eternity. And just as her mother had her bridge to paradise, Ryleigh would create her own bridge of marigolds to cross to her land of bliss and happiness. Her mother was, yet again, urging her to be the best person she could become. She decided that now was the time. She would cross that bridge and achieve success.

She loved to bake. She loved baking with her mom. Ryleigh decided that now was the time for her to open her own bakery. She had been looking at a great building on Main Street. She was just fearful of taking that step of opening her own business. She could afford to open her own bakery. More importantly, she would open her own bakery. She could spend her days baking with her mother’s memories. She could bake her way into happiness. She just needed to come up with a name. A name her mother would appreciate. A name that meant something to her.

She bought the little building. She completed the renovations. She chose a color scheme of the sunset hued blooms. It had a unique charm with hues of orange, red, yellow, and brown. The place had a warm inviting appeal to it that was undeniable. She even had planter boxes filled with marigolds lining the windows. It was absolutely delightful.

Ryleigh had everything perfect for opening day. Everything, that is, except a name for her bakery. She didn’t fret though. She knew the name would come to her. She had one week before her projected opening day.

She had it. She knew the name. It was perfect. She called the painter. She asked him to keep the sign cloaked. She ordered her boxes and her napkins. She had just enough time for the supplies to come in.

On opening day, she cut the ribbon provided by the chamber and unveiled the name of the restaurant. “This is in honor of my mom. One, two, three,” she said as she pulled the cord and brought the cloak off of the sign.

Everyone yelled as they read the sign, “Stop and Smell the Flours!” The sign was just perfect. Along the bottom was a marigold flower and the wittiness of the pun brought smiles to the townspeople. It was a lovely remembrance of the woman they all loved.