Wisteria

Not last Summer but the summer before, a friend and I were sitting in the garden enjoying a blether when she suddenly said, "What's happened to the Wisteria? I turned around to realize there was a gap in the wall where the Wisteria should have been.
When I went to investiagte, there was the dead stump in the ground. My Mother had cut it down.
Something happened inside me that I don't know how to describe.
The Wisteria had meant so much to my mother. She had planted it and tended to it and waited patiently for over seven years for it to flower. It was her pride and joy and I knew that she would never have cut it down if she had had any idea of what she was doing. For years I'd come to accept my mothers radical pruning efforts as an attempt to maintain control of a large garden that she felt was out of control. I'd focused most of my efforts on protecting the magnolia tree and on pruning it back before she would have any reason to feel overwhelmed by it.
When I asked her if she had any idea what might have happened to the wisteria she didn't seem to have any rememberance of it or any notion of what a wisteria even looked like.