It was a Saturday afternoon. I busied myself with chores, getting everything ready for the week ahead. While I dusted the mantel, my thoughts drifted to Mom.
Mom had died five months earlier, and I still worried about her every day. She’d struggled so much with Parkinson’s disease dementia. It caused hallucinations—frightening ones. By the end, she could barely feel safe even in a room with us. When she was alive, at least, I could try to comfort her. I hoped she was comforted now. That she’d finally found peace.
Mom’s free of all that, I told myself, rearranging some books. I just wished there was a way to know for sure…
My thoughts were interrupted by a strange odor. A bouquet of scents mingling into something delightful.
As sweet as a violet, as rich as a rose, as gentle as a lily. What could it be?
Maybe my husband had surprised me with a bouquet. I looked around the room. No surprise floral arrangements here. I gave my cleaning rag a hesitant sniff. That definitely wasn’t it. No chemical could match the fresh scent. I breathed in again, trying to track its source. But as fast as it had come, the scent was gone.
I brushed it off as just an odd occurrence. Something had likely wafted in through the windows as I cleaned. Then, days later, I smelled it again. Same place. Same room. Same mystery. It’s got to be somewhere close by, I thought. I circled the room, shifting pillows, scanning corners, shaking curtains. I looked out the window to see if some new, exotic flower had sprung up in the yard. And just like that, the smell dissipated again, leaving me completely bewildered.
I puzzled over the scent on and off in the following days. The next time it came back, I was in the family room in the afternoon. Nose high, I sniffed my way to the kitchen. My husband was there making coffee.
“Honey, you must be using new cologne!” I announced. I leaned in close to smell his shirt.
“No,” he said with a laugh. “I’m not wearing cologne at all.”
“No? Well, that’s the strangest thing,” I said. “This is the third time in the past three weeks I’ve smelled flowers. Mom used to say important things happen in threes…”
Mom!
Could the floral scent somehow be connected to her? I’d wished for a sign that Mom was okay…but could this be it? Mom wasn’t a big gardener. She didn’t usually buy flowers. And yet that scent was so otherworldly, I knew wherever it had come from was peaceful and safe.
The next day, I called my sister, Sandy, in North Carolina to tell her. “Three times,” I said, “three times out of nowhere, this incredible scent. Like no perfume or flower I’ve ever smelled. I looked everywhere but could not figure out where it was coming from. You’ve done some gardening,” I said. “Maybe you would have recognized it.”
“I’m not so sure,” Sandy said. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but since you mentioned it, something strange happened to me too. I was lying down for a nap when a shape appeared in my mind’s eye. Almost like a dream, but I wasn’t asleep. I saw this object moving toward me, then away again, then back toward me. I don’t think there’s a color in this world to accurately describe it. But if I were to try, I’d say it was different shades of hot pink, all blending together…”
“Go on,” I said.
“Rienne, it was a flower. One single, giant bloom with petals all around it. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before, not in any garden or nursery. And the way it came to me. It was as if it had been sent to me. It just happened yesterday afternoon.”
I almost dropped the phone. Yesterday afternoon! The same time I’d last smelled the mysterious floral scent. Instantly, I felt a weight lift from my spirit. I didn’t need to worry anymore. Mom made sure of it.
Did you enjoy this story? Subscribe to Mysterious Ways magazine.
