One in Six Million

One in Six Million (Studio Original SOLD)
Photography, Resin, and Acrylic on Wood, 2020

These white peonies, once blooming in my mother’s garden, stand as quiet symbols of purity, new beginnings, and the deep tenderness with which she cared for others. Their soft petals carry the weight of her selfless love—always giving, always nurturing, a reminder of the way she moved through the world. 

On Halloween morning—my father’s birthday—she was tending to them when she was stung by a bee. The reaction was swift and severe, and she did not survive. The odds of such a tragedy are one in six million.

That morning, she had been dividing and replanting these peonies, as if knowing they would need tending when she was no longer there.  I dug them up and brought them to my garden, where they bloom profusely each spring— a living remembrance and connection to her love, compassion, and selflessness.  

One in Six Million now hangs above the crib of a brand new family member. I like to think that my mother, who gave so much to her family, still watches over her with the same quiet strength and devotion that she gave to all of us.