I first met my Great Grandmother when I was only five or six years old. This meeting was a paradox because she had crossed over through Heavens Gates almost ten years earlier. Her passing was a heartache that my Mom never really got over, so Great Granny was never included in Mom's stories of the good ole days, that she was so fond of telling.

Mom believed in the early to bed routine. I was always tucked into bed by 7:30 P.M. Summer months were unbearable to me, because it was still daylight outside. I would stand by my window crying, watching the neighborhood children who were still playing the usual after dinner games, that seemed to be the screaming, and running games that were usually saved for the evening hours.

I really started feeling sorry for myself, and started crying even louder. I was feeling very unloved at the time, but no one seemed to pay any attention to my wails of discontent. The thing that brought my tears to a halt was a beautiful, pleasant scent that was beginning to fill my room. this floral scent was not familiar to me.

I loved playing around the flowers and trees that were scattered around the family home. The house, being one of the older ones in the neighborhood had a large variety of flowers, bushes and trees that Georgia is known for. This scent was not from one of those I grew up with and learned to love.

As I climbed back into bed, forgetting the children's games going on in the street. I was basking in the oh! so lovely scent, when a vision of the most comforting love walked into the room, in the guise of a small, plump sweet grey haired lady. Had it not of been for the plain blue dress, I might have mistaken her for Mrs Claus. She had the same cheerful smile, her hair pulled back in a bun, and her eyes the blue of bluebells.

This sweet woman sat and caressed my hair, gently smoothing the tear streaked hair back from my face. She whispered childish stories into my ear, soft as a lullaby, her voice like an angel's. She filled my heart with such love, I was soon in a peaceful, angel filled state of dreams.

The next morning I told my Mother what had happened. I told her of the lovely scent which filled the room, and of the sweet old woman who made me feel so very loved. Mom stood as if in shock, or maybe transported back into another time."It was my Grandmother who visited you little Honey Girl" Mom said. "The blue dress was always her favorite, though it was just a simple blue with tiny rose flowers, it was Granny's favorite. The scent that still lingered in the room was Mimosa, Granny loved them even as a child, because of their delicate paint brush blooms, and light lovely scent." Mom finished her story, then, had herself a good cry. I started to cry in Mom's arms and at that moment, Mom and I never felt closer.

I never saw my Granny Angel again, however when both my daughters were born the delivery room filled with the same scent that followed me from the labor room. Mimosa.