Zinnias 

My childhood subdivision was called Shenandoah.  Brand new brick homes, fenced backyards, concrete streets and streetlights, located in southwest Houston. Houston was a big small town in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s. My brother and sister were already in elementary school, so to fill my days, I would ride my bike and go exploring.  Some of my expeditions were outside the neighborhood boundaries, much further than I had permission to roam.

There was an elderly woman at the corner of Clarewood and Renwick, just outside our neighborhood, she had an older white frame home, the front yard was fenced and full of tall zinnias. At first glance, her front yard looked like tall weeds, especially compared to the subdivision yards with freshly planted Saint Augustine carpet grass.

I decided to look closer at her flowers, which turned out to be beautifully planted, which I noticed after opening her front gate and leisurely walking through the rows of tall flowers.

The little lady wasn’t surprised when I knocked on her door to pay a friendly visit. She invited me inside, I entered her home, we sat at her little kitchen table and talked about all sorts of interesting subjects, including Jesus.  I visited her many times, but never told my mother. I was told to never ever talk to strangers and would have certainly gotten a spanking.

After the visit with my elderly friend concluded, I would travel further from my boundaries to a machine shop, well outside my subdivision. The men that worked there would take a break and buy me a nickel ice cold bottled coke. I remember talking to them like I was a grownup, no telling what I said. We visited, I gulped down the free coke, placed the bottle in the wooden “empties” crate by the bright red coke machine and headed for home. 

Elementary school, Girl Scouts and playing with neighborhood kids my own age, slowed my roaming days.

Then one day, I notice the old white house was torn down, the fence and all the beautiful flowers were gone. I wondered what happened to the sweet lady. I wondered if she was sadden because I had stopped visiting.  I wondered if she had died.

These are sweet memories, memories of a free range kid with a bicycle, growing up in a kinder, gentler, safer time.  Rich treasures in my memory bank. Even 65 years later … when I see zinnias, I smile.

Proverbs 27:19 As water reflects the face, so one’s life reflects the heart.