The Amaryllis

1.
It came to us from my wife's sister,
As she packed to move to Texas,
to retirement, to her grandchildren.
"Here," she said, handing the pot
with growing flower to my daughter.

"Four whole generations,"
she said, counting on her fingers,
"this flower has been in the family.
Water it; give it sun; it will flourish.
Then give it with joy to your children."

2.
The amaryllis joined the family
just a bulb held by tender hands,
as a young wife and her husband
planted it in fragrant Idaho soil
where love and rain nourished it.

The couple raised their family
of four big boys, four sweet girls,
in a sturdy farming community
where honest work made people
strong and filled with love of God.

3.
Later, cousins received prunings
from the parent bulb to cultivate.
As the larger family branched, shoots
of amaryllis, symbols of endurance,
tied them to their humble roots.

Then more babies, cousins, grandkids.
They spread out across the country
to places west and east and south,
taking with them reminiscences
captured in amaryllis blooms.

4.
It took a year before my daughter,
eyes red with tears, held the pot
with withered leaves, dried roots.
We assured her no one blamed her.
She buried it in a backyard grave.

After she cried her sorrows, she said,
"I will keep the empty pot until
I become a mother. A new amaryllis
will be the gift my children's hands
plant, in rain and love and family."

© 2026 Michael Heavener