Dead Flower

Chapter 1

I fumbled with the keys of the tiny shop before I finally managed to open the door. I stumbled over thin air and let out a soft giggle before mumbling my favourite phrase, “oopsies.” I straightened up and ran my hands over my dress and looked around my flower shop. My mood immediately brightened up as I was met with the colourful image of all of my favourite flowers (which were really all of the flowers that I could find).

“Good morning,” I greeted each of the flowers as I picked up my watering jug and began with the daisy’s as I whistled the familiar tune from the song that my grandmother used to sing whenever she watered the flowers early in the morning.

In many ways, I was a lot like my wonderful grandmother who as far as I know, was passionate about a lot of things that I am passionate about. At times, when I would muse over the rainbow and try to find the end of it or ask my daddy for a unicorn, he would look adoringly into my eyes and tell me that I reminded him so much of his mother (my grandmother).

I truly wish that I had known her; Daisy Sunshine. Most conversations I’ve had with her have been over the phone because my father refused to step foot back into this town and she refused to leave her home. But what I’ve heard from my father about Miss Daisy Sunshine was that she was a people’s person and she loved to help anyone with any problems they had.  She would go above and beyond for anyone in need.

Daisy was nothing but a pure hearted human who had a strong love for nature. She would take early morning walks, well, basically, she always only walked because she refused to pollute. She made her own clothes and she’s sewn me plenty of Christmas sweaters over the years (which I absolutely adore).

Everyone who came across Daisy always had such lovely things to say and she put hard work into her little flower shop in the town of a population of 50,000 or so. She called it “Sunshine’s Flowers” and all of her years hard work truly reflected every time I stepped into this store.

For many years, after my father was awarded a full ride scholarship to any college that he wanted and my father chose to move to California, she continued on her days alone. I’ve always spoken with her through the laptop screen almost every other day and we would talk for hours on end because we were s alike. It was as though I was talking to myself because we shared the same thoughts, values, likes and dislikes. We enjoyed the same type of music and I developed a great love for flowers because of her.

I would talk about flowers as though they were gold. Daisy would talk about flowers as though they were her lover that knew every little intimate detail about her, as strange as that may sound. I was her favourite (and only) grandchild and I know that she always wanted to meet me but because of her elderly and frail body riddled with several sicknesses, she couldn’t risk travelling long distances. And no matter how much I pleaded and begged my father to let me come visit her, his chestnut complexion would pale and his eyes would show great fear before he would let out an angry “No!” at my request.

For many years, I felt a certain way about my father not allowing me to see my own grandmother. I was very well used to how my parents would shelter me from the outside world or anything and anyone they deemed dangerous or even suspicious. I would like to think that such a protectiveness came over them because of their inability to have children for the many years that my parents were married.

My parents like most lovers out there met at the age where many young adults look for significant others. My father was fresh out of college and my mother was in her final year of college, just months away from graduating. When they met, they felt a connection but both of them at that time were certain that it wasn’t love. Yet over time, they began to build their connection and began to fall in love and four years later, they got married.