When she smiled it alleviated sadness that appeared out of the blue. A lost toy car. Losing his front tooth and being poked for it. Pops brought him to the wrong barber, misshaping his hairline. Seeing his Titi nearly lose her life. Things that were avoidable and unavoidable, brought on sadness like a current and it made the blues dissipate the way Chrishelle had flexed her mouth into a smirk. The one that says, all will be okay. All will be forgotten. Nova succeeded in believing it, especially on the days that made waking up a hard task. As a little kid, he knew what the equivalent of smiling was for his mom. He knew that one petal, when it wilted and fell from its flower, the irreversible mood ceased to live on.

There were days she had that were like that. Mustering the strength to exist. Going through the motions to keep a house and be there for her husband and son. Nova saw through the facade as some children were aware enough to do. Their will of ways unable to be tainted by the exposed world when the one inside a small apartment dwelling, was built differently. He sat beside her. Held her hand gently. She reached out to cup his hand just as so. Singing Dejala Que Siga a hair shy of mimicking the late Héctor Lavoe. Off key on the good notes and when he made a face, she swatted him on the knee.

The depressive states rode their course but nothing could ever brighten up a day than the look of hibiscus. The smell of it and Nova knew what the perfect gift would be. At an age that he was old enough to pick out a Mother’s day gift, Nova asked his father if they could take a walk to the nearest florist. The one across from the bodega they often visited. It was a small storefront, family owned and saw better days. It still served the block for most of the needs, including all major life milestones. Every year a picture was drawn. A model was molded. Or he helped pitch in for dinner. As a big boy his decision shifted. Wanting to put a thought to what he believed would brighten the day of the woman who managed his wounds both external and internal.

Wild arrangements were housed in every place imaginable as he slowly entered the store. His father trailing behind with an energy that was larger than most, casting a shadow from above. Clear as day, he recalls his father saying, "Make it quick, champ. We gotta another stop before sundown." Heeding his father’s words, his nervous smirk ticked and he slowed stepped further. Eying the merch. Examining vases, prints of paper, and the cellophane in rolls. Some obscured the view of what he was seeking. Searching through the thick vines of ropey plants just to gain access to the velvety red plant that did so much for the soul.

He gave an exciting point. Immediately tailed by the shop’s owner when the counter wasn’t holding them back. Nova made it quick as his father asked and rustled with his words. Explaining in bursts of elation, what the flower meant to him. It was pretty and his mom would be happy to have it, including the bonus of a single stem orange hibiscus that sat in the center. A lone color of oddness that seemed like a dilution of the reds that were forced to be together. As if the grand creator added a dab of white, stripping it from its vibrant value.

He didn’t think it meant anything but liked that it was different. Alone but also not while being joined by other stems. The owner completed the simple arrangement, and Nova’s father came right up with the singles of cash to pay for it immediately. Given to the kid, he tucked it like a football in his arms, a smile brimming at the surface. Remaining there until errands were completed and walking into their hthat was the savior from many ongoings outside the building’s doors.

”Mami, mami!!!!” would reverberate through the halls. Bouncing against the rickety flooring. Ringing through the air that neither the lone occupant would turn off the switch that had her seated securely at the kitchen table. A small piece of furniture. Enough to seat four, had one, then finally two, as the third was left to hang out at the entryway of the compact kitchn. Nova, in all of his wildly coiled hair glory slid into the empty seat that had his name on it. Chrishelle stole a look. It fell back to a thick bound book. Unable to keep the flower bearing kid in her eye’s sight.

She was flustered. Touch even and the only son tried to feel out his approach better when stuffing the bouquet in her face. She didn’t kindly take the arrangement or held his hand in prime gratitude. Instead she swallowed him whole into a hug that reassured what tension he walked into was easing away as the gloom of unrelenting could be pacified for a moment. Short-lived. In that shortness, he saw evident trouble split itself as an acknowledgment was made. Presented in thought, his mother looked over her shoulder. Suspecting her son’s father put him up to it. When the signs all pointed in a different direction, Chrishelle held the boy tighter.

Summoning all the love she had difficulty sharing lately, and putting it into the muffled words of praise that translated into grace in her mother tongue. Nova hugged back. Ticklish through the rope of affection he eased his shoulders and uttered, "Eres la mejor mamá del mundo!!!!! Muah muah!". Cheeks elevated and remained so through the exchange. She saw her son’s thoughtful gift as a crack of a shut door. He took what it was, wanting to do the same for her on a day that he would wish he would have more of.