River Street was coming up. There was their little house. Despite Grandma Agnes’ wild drive home, it was good to be at her real home. Ali was limping up the driveway that her mother was watering down before company arrived. Ali walked straight to her mother and hugged her leg and looked up at her.
“Hi Angel-----what’s the matter?” inquired Ali’s mother who could see Ali had been crying.
“I wanted to show Grandma Agnes how high I could jump from the swing, but she started to drive away, and, and I hurried and when I jumped, I ended up in Mrs. Amity’s bushes and scraped my knees,” said Ali in a torrent of emotion while holding tight to her mother’s leg. Just then Grandma Agnes walked by on the way to the house.
“That daughter of yours, a dilly-dally little rowdy she is,” Grandma Agnes said while shaking her head and disappearing into the house.
“Mother, I’m not a dilly-dally little rowdy. I just wanted someone to see me jump.” Tears started to well back up in Ali’s eyes.
Ali’s mother leaned over and turned the spigot to shut off the water. She sat down on the porch step, pulling Ali onto her lap, and began rolling up the tattered overalls of her little girl.
“How many times have I told you to slow down and be careful when you’re playing, Ali?” said her mother tenderly. A few drops of water from the hose was dripped onto her mother’s bandanna and placed gently on both of Ali’s scraped knees to absorb the little bit of blood. Ali began feeling better while being tended to by her mother.
“I think you’re going to make it----such a little wild one you are.” Her mother smiled while rocking Ali back and forth in her arms.
There was a little growth of white flowers growing alongside the porch step where Ali and her mother sat. Her mother reached over to break off a small bunch of the flowers for Ali while she continued to rock her gently in her arms.
“This is Sweet Alison just for you, Ali. It grows wild around our house and is very much like you. In fact, I named you after this little flower.” She handed the little bouquet to Ali.
“Really?” inquired Ali “after these little flowers?”
“Yep,” said her mother. “Somehow, I knew Rose or Daisy or Chrysanthemum just wasn’t going to be the right flower name for my little girl.”
“Chris-sand-the-mom?” repeated Ali with a puzzled look on her face. Her mother laughed.
“No you are definitely like Sweet Alison----wild, and bright, and sweet and growing like a weed!”
With that, Ali’s mom gave her a kiss on the forehead, set her back on the walkway and gave her a little swat on the backside. “Now go and find your brother. We’ve got company coming tonight and I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that someone special will be arriving late tonight----”
“Daddy??” Ali asked loudly, interrupting her mother.
“No, Sweetie, not Daddy-----Santa on his sleigh with all the reindeer and presents,” replied Ali’s mother with a wistful smile. Ali’s tears were now dried as she thought about Santa and the reindeer, and of course, the presents. It was still a little sad to think that her father would not be there. Her father and Santa were kind of alike; they were both busy doing important things most of the year (Santa made toys and her father sang songs), but when they did come for a visit, it was wonderful!