African Violets were my father’s mother specialty. In her home, there was a room with a large shelf. The shelves were filled with African Violets – all colors, all sizes. We were never allowed to turn on the light in that room, because she had the shelves lit just perfectly for the violets. When we slept in that room, there was a timer that would turn the lights on and off each hour. It was fascinating to wake up to shelves of glowing plants in the middle of the night. I was pretty sure it was a fairy garden and I was dreaming. She knew just how to grow them perfectly, then she would sell them at the garden club and the mall at Christmas for extra spending money.

Just after I was married, she allowed me to take a cutting home. After a 45 minute lesson on how to water, replant, prune, and care for this little plant, I was pretty sure that it would perish under my care.

Much to my surprise, it is still alive today. I’ve carried this plant to offices that I’ve worked in and the homes that we’ve lived in. It always seems to bloom at just the perfect time.

When I left the corporate world, about two and half years ago, I brought the plant home and put it near my kitchen window. It hasn’t bloomed that entire time.

Then, mom and dad told me they were coming for my birthday and I noticed little buds forming. This is how my sweet plant looked the dad daddy arrived. I have a feeling that these little blooms weren’t for me this time, but for him.

I’m pretty sure it was grandpa saying hello from heaven.