The Oak and The Flower Garden

Eva arrived at the old wooden house before her sister.  She was glad since it gave her time to quietly walk through the memories the house held.  She put her suitcase down and sat on the patchwork quilt pieced together with colorful scraps her mama had saved from clothes she’d sewn through the years.  Eva rubbed her hand across the quilt.  If only that quilt could talk.

Mama had died years earlier on a hot day in August.  She was in her garden, and her heart just stopped.  Papa was heartbroken but said if she was going to die, the garden was where she’d want to be.  Mama loved her garden.  Papa had built a winding red brick path from the patio to the tall sturdy oak trees.  The garden bloomed on either side of the path.  The tiny red and yellow lantana blooms and fragrant snow-white alyssum were Eva’s favorites. Papa never worked in the garden before Mama died.  It was her pride and joy.  But after she died, Eva would find him talking to Mama as he lovingly cared for it.  It was his way of keeping her alive.

And now Papa was gone.  He had become frail in the past year.  Papa was gone; how could she bear it?  She loved Papa more than life itself.  He was strong like the oaks that towered over the yard yet sweet like the flowers in the garden.  She missed him so much.  Eva laid down under the oak tree and looked up.  She saw a squirrel scamper up the tree and a blue jay fly by.  The tree seemed to be reaching higher today.  Eva reached up too.  “Goodbye, Papa, goodbye. I miss you so.”  She closed her eyes and finally let the healing tears flow down her cheeks.


300 words