During the Depression, a lot of folks just could not afford to care for their children. That’s why my mom and her brothers spent most of their lives in an orphanage. It was hard, but Mom found ways to be happy.
She loved to pick violets in the orphanage garden and place them on the feet of a statue of Mary. “Those bright purple flowers gave me hope,” she explained to me. “Even if we were separated, we were still a family.”
Our family needed that hope when Dad died of a heart attack. One day I walked into the kitchen. There on the table was a fresh vase of violets. “Times are different now,” Mom said. “But you kids need hope just like I did. We’re still a family.”
Year after year, Mom made sure that we had violets. As long as we had violets, I knew we’d be together.
Today I have my own house and my own kids. Mom still keeps potted violets in her windowsill. No matter how far apart our lives take us, we’ll always be a family.
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