Read by Matilda Longbottom

The youngest of my two sons was born in early Autumn. We named him William. The name was a family heirloom, ancient and strong, but also sweet.

When I returned home from the hospital with my precious bundle, the wilting flowers and brittle vines in my garden were the furthest thing from my mind. Like many new mothers, my focus was solely on my young children. We settled into our cozy home, watching the vibrant yellows, reds, and oranges of Autumn unfold through our picture window.

We were fortunate to have a small army to support us during those early years, especially my mother—known to her grandchildren as Gigi. Almost as soon as William was born, Gigi, an avid gardener, began calling him her “Sweet William.” Unfamiliar with horticultural terms, I simply thought it was a lovely nickname. And it was.

Gigi was a constant caretaker in our home. She stayed with us each Thursday, the only day neither my husband Ryan nor I could be with our boys. She arrived Wednesday evenings and spent about 24 hours with us. We eagerly anticipated our “Gigi Days” every week for many years.

While my husband and I were away, Gigi would rock our small boys in her arms, always watching the world through that big picture window. We would come home to a hot meal and a re-organized spice cabinet or refreshed linen closet. Our sons were happy and content, and Ryan and I got a breather each week with a loving and gentle extra set of hands around the house. We all get a bit of a catch in our throat now as we remember those blissful days.

The Fall and Winter days passed quickly, and Spring soon arrived. We were ready to start planning my garden. First on the list was a hardy perennial that would thrive in the northeast corner of our house, which was mostly sunny with dappled afternoon shade. I settled on dianthus. That season, the plants thrived, producing lacy, lilac-colored blossoms atop voluminous green foliage. A good choice.

During one of Gigi’s visits, we were inspecting the garden when we reached the dianthus patch. “Your Sweet Williams look beautiful!” she commented.

My what? My Sweet Williams?

It was then that I learned the true source of Gigi’s nickname for our boy. My heart burst. She couldn’t have known it at the time, but the nickname she bestowed upon him in his very first days had grown to fit him.

Our William is strong and adaptable. He is joyful and generous. And, of course, he is sweet.

When William was very little, I gave him the task of watering the Sweet William garden. He loved the chore. He has grown to know and love the flower well, too. He understands it represents the special relationship between him and his Gigi.

For many years, he has gifted a Sweet William to Gigi for Mother’s Day. She cherishes the plants and provides us with regular updates on their status, how they are responding to the current weather conditions, when she plans to transplant them, and how many blossoms they have.

What is represented in those blossoms? Perhaps the unique love that can only be shared between a Gigi and her Sweet William. ❖

About the Author: Jackie spends her days in one of several places, but often behind a keyboard or in the garden. She has been fortunate to have stories featured in The New York Times, USA Today, Country Magazine, and a previous issue of GreenPrints. Both gardening and writing have been an evolution for Jackie. She finds the parallels between the two to be undeniable. Starting only with a small sprout, just an idea, really–then nurturing it to fruition. Sometimes it thrives. Sometimes it doesn’t. She finds that either way, it doesn’t matter. The joy is in the growth, both literally and figuratively.