My aunt and the lavender are really what this post is about. I started out writing about staying home sick today, but my thoughts wandered to my garden, my lavender, and my aunt who meant so much to me.
🇸🇪 Läs det här inlägget på svenska Min faster och lavendeln
Good morning.
Today I was supposed to attend a meeting here in the municipality, but I have decided to stay home. Because I am sick. Not seriously ill, but ill enough. My throat hurts so much that it is difficult to swallow. My airways hurt when I cough, almost as if a wound is being scraped open every time I cough or swallow. On top of that, the feverish feeling has returned.
This has not been an easy decision. Quite the opposite.
But since there will be many people at the meeting, I have chosen to stay home out of respect for them. I do not want to make anyone else sick. They will manage without me, and the truth is that I am not a crucial part of what is happening there. Before this past six months, they managed perfectly well, and they will do so now too.
The person who loses the most by staying home is not them – it is me.
That may sound strange, but it is true. These are meetings that matter to me. At the same time, I know that my body needs something different today.
So instead, I am going to stay here at home and rest. I am going to give my body the recovery it was really crying out for last week. But last week there were preparations for a birthday celebration, and not doing what needed to be done simply was not an option.
Now the celebration is over.
Now I am going to listen to my amazing body that has practically shouted itself hoarse.
Morning Coffee, Blogging and the Garden
But I can manage a small blog post. Or perhaps I should say that I want to manage one.
Not because it is incredibly important, but because this is what my mornings look like. Coffee and a blog post. That is simply how it is.
And it does not take energy.
It gives energy.
So what should I write about?
I am going to write about my garden.
That garden which is far from perfect. Not even close. Yet it has become a part of my day, a place where I feel at home and where I enjoy spending time.
You could say that it is an extension of my family history.
Things from my grandmother grow here.
Flowers from my mother’s garden grow here.
And lavender from my aunt grows here.
Every plant carries a small story. A memory. A person.
And perhaps that is why I enjoy walking around out there so much.
Mother’s Day Gifts and Thoughtfulness
Yesterday I received a small miniature rose bush from our oldest son still living at home as a Mother’s Day gift. I also received a box of my favourite chocolates – Anton Berg.
From my daughter and Simon, I actually received my gift already on Saturday. A scented candle and a soap that I absolutely love.
I received the same soap for my birthday this winter and even bought one myself a few months later because I love the scent so much. It smells like summer, mimosa and soft floral notes that feel a little luxurious in everyday life.
This time they gave me both the soap and a scented candle called Prosecco.
Small things perhaps.
But they are the kind of things that make me smile every time I use them.
Just Like in the Garden
But gifts were not really what I intended to write about.
I was going to write about my garden.
And just like in the garden, I apparently approach words in the same way.
First a few small attempts.
A little here.
A little there.
Then, once it takes hold, it becomes more than I had planned from the beginning.
The difference is that after hours of gardening I sometimes wake up sore and stiff.
Words never leave me aching.
Quite the opposite.
They help me breathe a little more freely.
My Aunt and the Lavender Through the Years
Writing about the garden also creates space for photographs that truly belong to the story I am telling.
About twenty years ago, my aunt gave me two lavender plants. She showed me how to propagate them and shared so much advice that has stayed somewhere in the back of my mind ever since.
But before I show you a picture of my little lavender plant, which has survived both difficult and sorrowful years and still returns with fresh green shoots every summer, I want to tell you a little about my aunt.
She was a very kind and warm person.
The sad thing was that there were so many old conflicts in the family. Sometimes it almost felt as though I was betraying someone when I visited her. It could even feel difficult to openly say how much I liked her.
My Aunt and the Lavender in My Garden
When I was a child, it felt as though I was supposed to think the same way as my grandmother and my father. As if loyalty demanded it. But inside, I felt something completely different.
Because my aunt was kind.
She was caring, gentle and had a way of making people feel welcome.
And she was beautiful too. Not just in the sense of being attractive, but in that unforgettable way that stays with you long after someone is gone.
When I think of her, I still picture someone who looked like a movie star.
Her home always smelled wonderful. It smelled welcoming, cosy and lived-in. The kind of home where you immediately felt safe.
My Aunt and a Baby Sleeping Bag
When my son was born, she gave me a beautiful baby sleeping bag.
It made me so happy.
There was something almost ceremonial about placing him in it. As if she had wrapped him in an extra layer of care and love.
When the conflicts between my aunt and my grandmother were at their worst, I would quietly make my way over to her house. She lived just across the fence from my grandparents’ property.
I was always nervous when I rang the doorbell.
Would she answer?
Would she be upset?
Or would everything be as usual?
But I was always brave enough to ring the bell.
And I was always welcomed.
At least that is how it felt.
Lavender From My Aunt
My little aunt, who I now realise was so important to the little girl I once was — a little girl who is now simply living in a much older body.
The lavender in my garden came from her.
Every year when I see it send out new shoots and turn green again, I feel happy. It is like a link to my aunt and to all the wise advice she gave me about how to care for it.
It smells wonderful.
And this year I have even taken cuttings from it.
I have never done that before, even though she explained how to do it all those years ago.
But this year I thought: now I have the opportunity.
Now I have my lovely greenhouse where those little cuttings can spend their first months growing strong.
In a way, it feels special.
My Aunt and the Lavender – More Than Just a Plant
As if my aunt’s lavender is still spreading, just as her kindness did.
My aunt and the lavender have followed me throughout my life.
My aunt sewed, made decorative crafts, painted pictures and was incredibly creative. She was generous and always just a phone call away.
What I appreciate most today is that she understood the difference between conflicts and the people caught within them.
She saw the conflict between my father and herself.
She saw the conflict between my grandmother and herself.
But she also saw that I was not the conflict.
I was simply me.
And I experienced the love between her and me.
She was always kind and always said things that made me dare.
”If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
I do not always remember what we were talking about when she said those words, but I remember the feeling. Her words gave me the courage to do things I might otherwise never have attempted.
When my former husband and I started our fast-food business, she said:
”Of course you can do it.”
When I painted, she said:
”Of course you can.”
When I talked about writing, she said:
”You have so much inside you. Write. You are someone who can.”
Her words have always stayed with me.
Gentle, kind and encouraging words.
Words that helped me believe in myself a little more.
And perhaps that is why that little lavender plant means so much to me.
It is not just a plant.
It is a memory of someone who truly saw me.
Someone who believed in me.
Someone who gave me courage.
And somehow this became a very long post.
It turned out not to be about the garden at all.
It was about my aunt.
The other flowers will have to wait for another post, because this one is already long enough.
And perhaps that is exactly as it should be.
Sometimes you start writing about a flower and discover that what you really wanted to write about was a person.
When I See My Aunt and the Lavender, I Think of Childhood
My aunt and the lavender are forever connected in my memories.
Between the Lines
When I began writing this post, I thought it would be about my lavender.
Instead, it turned out to be about my aunt.
Perhaps that is not surprising. The lavender is not just a plant. It is a memory of someone who meant a great deal to me.
Looking back now, I realise that life was probably not easy for my aunt. There were family conflicts and strained relationships. Yet she still had time for me.
She never made the adults’ conflicts my responsibility.
I never had to choose sides when I was with her.
I was allowed to simply be Carina.
It is only as an adult that I understand how important that really was.
She saw me.
She listened to me.
She encouraged me.
She made me believe I could do things that I was not always sure I could do myself.
When I think about all the times she said, ”Of course you can,” I sometimes wonder if she realised how much those words would mean.
Maybe she did.
Maybe she did not.
But they stayed with me throughout my life.
And perhaps that is why I become so happy every spring when the lavender sends out new shoots.
Not only because the plant survived another winter.
But because it reminds me that love, kindness and encouragement can live on long after the words themselves have been spoken.
Just as the lavender continues to grow, the memory of my aunt continues to live within me.
Reflection – My Aunt and the Lavender
Sometimes I think we carry people with us much longer than we realise.
They live on in a recipe, a flower, a way of thinking, or a few words that were once spoken and never truly left us.
Perhaps we all have someone like that in our lives.
Someone who saw us when we needed to be seen.
Someone who believed in us when we doubted ourselves.
Someone who gave us courage without ever fully understanding how much it mattered.
When we look back, it is rarely the big things we remember most.
More often, it is the small things.
A welcoming home.
A cup of coffee.
A kind word.
Someone opening the door and making space for us exactly as we were.
Perhaps that is why some people continue living in our hearts long after the years have passed.
They became a part of us.
And sometimes all it takes is the scent of lavender to remind us.
For me, my aunt and the lavender will always be a reminder of kindness.
A Question for You
Do you have a plant, an object or a scent that reminds you of someone who meant a lot to you?
Is there someone whose words still stay with you, even after many years have passed?
Feel free to share in the comments. I read every one, even if I do not always have time to reply right away.
Also Read
If you enjoy these kinds of personal reflections, you may also like:
- Coming Closer to Yourself
- Dreams, Rest and Slowly Finding Your Way Home
- Not Whole – But More Whole Than Before
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Final Thoughts
We rarely know what traces we leave behind in other people.
A kind word, encouragement or an open door can live on much longer than we ever imagine.
My aunt gave me lavender, but she also gave me courage. I do not think she knew how long her words would stay with me.
Perhaps that is true for all of us.
What we do today, we do not always know where it will land, when it will bloom, or in whose heart it will take root.
That is why it is worth planting a little kindness whenever we can. 🌿💜
Live today, right now. What you give away today may become a memory, courage or strength that someone carries with them far into the future.
Carina Ikonen Nilsson
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