MENTAL HEALTH/ TRAUMA

The Gladiola Man

Why I hate these flowers

Photo by Earl Wilcox on Unsplash

Trigger warning

Recent poetry by Carolyn F. Chryst, Ph.D. explored memories spurned by the sight of flowers. Maybe you have pleasant memories of a certain flower, like marigolds, snapdragons and lilacs do for me. Maybe the smell of roses brings you back to the day you were married. Maybe the smell of honeysuckle brings you right back to your childhood home.

As Carolyn shares, smells and flowers can also bring us back to trauma. Perhaps a funeral, where the smell of flowers overcomes and turns your stomach?

Her poignant poems of trauma and mental health made me think about the Gladiola Man who lived next door to us when I was growing up. He was an old man, set in his ways and grumpy.

We were a family of lots of kids who played outside all of the time. We were directed to stay off the Gladiola Man’s property. This was hard to do since we often played baseball in the yard, and who could tell where a fly ball would go?

He didn’t want us near his precious garden where he and his wife grew vegetables and gladiolas. He was known as the Gladiola Man, because he would sell his glads in front of his house. He and his wife loved and nurtured them.