I remember when you were born. It was a crisp October day in my 15th year. I couldn’t wait to see you, my little niece. Peering at you from behind thick glass I fell in love with the healthy little bundle in the nursery incubator. You were so tiny, so innocent, so new.
And when you came home to us, because your mom and dad lived with us, I loved your tiny lion cub cry. You opened a new world to all of us. I would watch you sleep relieved for a break but excited to hear you wake again.
Each day you seemed to grow more plump and more curious. With long lashes you could bat your eyes and anyone of us would run to your bidding. Soon words started to form and your feelings were made known. Just two feet tall, but you could communicate what you wanted, and throw a dramatic fit if you didn’t get it. So you grew like prairie grass in natural beauty, but you were not quiet. You were like a bubbling brook always speaking and exploring and wanting to learn.
And then you moved out of our house. And times grew tough between your mom and dad. Our little free spirit with many things to say- grew quiet. My heart broke for you.
As the seasons changed and you continued to grow I heard you sing a song one day. In the middle of toddler play. Your straight black hair gathered into a ponytail as you flitted around in your blue Cinderella dress with the puffy tulle.
“And a flower every day…and a flower every day…and a flower every day to you.”
Like a little Christmas bell ringing, your song delighted me. It resounded with your desire to give love and life to everyone around you. You were a flower every day to me.
Soon it was time for me to graduate from highschool and runaway to college. I felt sad to leave you and now your little brother Jake. You’re the only little girl I felt was mine. I had no sister. My heart was grave knowing how I would miss your words and hugs.
As I grew into a woman you grew into a girl. Your hair long and dark, and your eyes dark lashed and intelligent. In the time I was away at college your Dad took a new wife and you gained a new mother. Now with two moms I wasn’t sure what an aunt could do or how I would fit.
Then it was time for my wedding, so we dressed you up in a white gown. At six years old you twirled around asking energetically, “Dianne, do you think I look pretty?”
'Oh yes," I said to cropped bangs and long ironed curls. Addressing wonder-filled eyes and a proud grin, “You look perfect Jessie,” I whispered through my white veil.
After the wedding was over, I cried for you. Would I get to be close to my precious niece anymore? I would be officially moved away to Springfield, Missouri. Again I would miss “My flower everyday.”
You continued to greet me with your energetic hug and your happy words on vacations. Like a bunch of violets picked from a neighbor's yard, you would fill the room with your presence- sweet and a little bit sassy and thoughtful yet rambunctious.
Years past and we moved back to Waterloo. Again I could spend time with you, but life had taken another turn. I started having a family of my own. It was your turn to hold my babies and laugh at their toothless grins.
In your seventh grade year we worked on a song for the talent show. I always loved your voice and hoped that you would be able to experience the joy I did in singing. I hoped to teach you all that I knew so that you could shine brighter than I ever could. At the performance of “Blessed,” I sat nervously praying that you would blow us away. You sang with all your heart and everyone cheered. I was ecstatically proud of you.
Not long after, we moved away again to Cedar Rapids. Unfortunately, I lost contact with you. It wasn’t my intention but it happened. Through your teen years I was away, and I only heard about what was new in your life. Sometimes I had small conversations with you at holiday meals. During the teen years conversation wasn’t as easy. The words I wanted to say and the words that came out weren’t the same.
Why is it, when you really love someone, the words get all dammed up inside. When I heard that you were expecting a baby I cried. I was so far away from you when I received the news. How did you feel? Were you scared? I didn’t even have your phone number anymore. The chasm was far greater than the 51 miles from Cedar Rapids to Waterloo. Did you know, dear Jessie that you were still my “Flower Every day?”
About nine months later, I held little Jocelyn in my arms. You were tiredly resting in the hospital bed, but resilient. I am amazed at your strength. Life has not been easy for you, but you keep going. She was a tiny little bundle, just like you were. And as she has grown she fills the room with the joyful chatter she inherited from her mother. Does she know that she shares your gift, the refreshing touch of the wild flower.
Dear Jessie, you are beautiful like the flowers that clothe the prairie, springing up all by themselves and singing a song regardless of the chaos in the world around them. Please know whether near or far I have always loved you. I am cheering for you now, mother of three. May you feel the liberty to be the free-spirited, inquisitive, and joyful woman you were always meant to be. Let that melody ring in your heart and flow from your lips.
"And a flower every day, and a flower every day, and a flower every day to you."
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