flowers cure

There used to be a little girl who counted flowers. She sat beside her beautiful grandfather and their faces reflected the glory of the sun, while he trimmed and primed the delicate, lovely branches of greenery that thrived in the garden near his house. When she got tired of counting, she amused herself with chasing her youth in the form of premeditated butterfly games. Her ringlet curls bounced in time with her feet as she lunged in only the way toddlers could, to amuse any adults at hand. Sometime around twilight, the sun would stretch far against its perimeters of safety, to wave goodnight to the girl and her grandfather. They would wave back as it faded into and against the sky, and black ink flooded the clouds above them. The grandfather would then carry his granddaughter inside, and they would gorge themselves with laughter and pretty snacks. Every night when the girl would leave, she would always turn around and tell the moon to make sure the sun would always come back the next day, fore she was positive that her grandfather was made of the same cells as the sunshine she basked in, and she worried if the sun hid, it would hurt her beloved grandfather, which she couldn’t stand the thought of. But, the moon kept his promises and everyday she would return, filled with warmth that spread through her body like a warm summer spring everytime she walked through the gate back into her grandfather’s garden. 

The years wore on, but the moon remained faithful in it’s protection of the sun, and that in turn the sun kept illuminating the days they rejoiced in together. One day, the girl awoke to the same darkness she had slept in. She opened her window, but nothing but rain fell upon her bare hand. Bracing herself, she made the trip back to her grandfather’s house, knowing that his astounding presence could brighten the eyes of any storm. The now twelve year old opened the wire gate, and saw his garden, empty. It was such an oddity to look at. Even when every plant was deemed perfect, her grandfather still had branches to ruffle or weeds to pluck from their habitance. Walking up to the door, she heard murmurs of family she wasn’t used to hearing, but it didn’t bother her. She went to see her grandfather and he smiled, such a wonderful smile, she was sure it could stop wars, or maybe even rain drops.   

 They played cards that day due to the rain, but the girl could feel the aura of the house change. The light that illuminated from her grandfather’s eyes had dimmed down to a bleak lantern, which worried the girl immensely. She asked him what was wrong, but he answered her with a great laugh, telling her nothing could be wrong with a world as wonderful as this. She shakily agreed, hugging him and noticed how sturdy he felt, her last reminiscence of home she could count on. That night when she went home, she grew angry, like a short weed sprouting between rows of daffodils. She knew her grandfather wouldn’t agree with this emotion, but the moon had broken its promise to her, she had never felt so betrayed. “How could you!” She screamed out her bedroom window, amidst a storm that didn’t know how to use it’s indoor voices. That night she only caught glimpses of the moon as she tossed and turned, dreaming of the sun. 

The next morning, she saw the grim faces of her family and her stomach churned in time with the storm. She only stayed long enough to hear the word cancer, then she bolted from her statue-like state and ran straight into the storm. She embraced the icy water that cut against her face, the wind that tore at her jacket, she found peace in the physical destruction of herself in that moment. After hours, she left the storm and found herself at the same iron gate she had walked through thousands of times, now looking at it, memorizing the chink near the bottom rung, remembering how she used to have to get help opening it by herself. She entered the house and found him in his favorite chair, almost as if he had known she was coming. She ran straight into his arms, and in that moment every year she had run to him had emerged from her skin. She saw herself as a baby, a toddler, a child, always running back to the same warm beacon. He smiled at her, and the smile stretched 12 years wide, and she appreciated the familiarity of the expression. The next few months flew by with wind in shades of bruised blue. Holidays, days in general, nothing seemed to work. The girl was so confused, until one day they were walking and she saw it. The last trace of sun had leaked out of his eyes. She hadn’t seen the warm star since she had found out the terrible news. That night, she opened her window, and let her own eyes kiss the sky. She knew her grandfather was growing sicker and sicker, but she needed something back. She told the moon stories of her childhood that night. Weaving tales of secret gardens and adventures in the woods, until the moon began to weep, in the form of the most gentle warm rain the girl had ever felt. She let it dance against her eyelids and calm the pain that had grown, like a weed, inside of her. She asked the moon to bring the sun back, because she knew, if her grandfather could just see it again, the same warmth would return to his eyes, his face. The next day, the storm had not ceased, but her grandfather said the garden needed tending. They ventured out in warm jackets and cold hearts, finally reaching the sad garden beds. Against the wishes of her grandmother, They stayed out waiting, in hopes to see the sun yet again. The next day came and went. Finally, the sun broke between the clouds and they were flooded with memories, so warm their eyes began to water. The girl looked at her grandfather, and his face once again shown brightness in tune with the sun. “I remember when you were as young as these plants we grow,” he said heartily, “ I used to swing you from my arms, I used to be invincible. Now you’re the invincible one, my beautiful flower.” She looked at his bright smiling eyes for the last time, before they fell like a stage curtain, closed against his glimmering skin. She wept, feeling more betrayed than a planet full of broken promises. “Why are you crying?” She looked into the sky and saw her grandfather’s face, outlined by the circle of the sun. “No need for tears. You’re invincible now. Wear it well.” She felt the light kindle her broken spirit, as every cloud in the sky was chased away by the beauty of the scene unfolding. She went home and the moon wept with her that night, until the stars cradled her into a warm slumber. Even as the years passed and deteriorated with the garden, every time the little girl looked up at the sky, she saw the sun winking at her, with a smile that was 12 years wide, and eyes that illuminated every dark thought in the world. Smiling like a child, she ran into the light embrace of the sun, her ringed curls dancing in tune with her feet, chasing the love she knew she had never lost.