Drowning in Roses

Daisies

“What’s that gram?” I asked her curiously as I watched her wash a glass with elegant blue daisies painted all over it. I had been following her around all day, trying to help her with chores because I was finally nine and I felt like I could do “grown-up” things.

“Oh,” She said while drying it with a raggedy dish towel, “it’s a flower vase, of course. It was my mother’s you know. Do you like it?” Gram held it out to me and I took it carefully out of her hands.

I inspected it with my best “grown-up” face and said finally, “It’s pretty.” I held it away from me to give it back to her, but she just pushed my hands back and smiled. She turned back to the sink and started washing dishes again, so I ran off to the other room to find some flowers for my new vase. There were skimpy white flowers there, so I ran off to the other rooms in search of the perfect flowers for my vase.

It wasn’t until I went into the spare bedroom that I found beautiful pink roses in a vase on the window. I ran over and picked two up, and then I darted to the bathroom.

I wasn’t tall enough to reach the faucet, so I dragged an old footstool over and climbed up. I filled the vase up and dropped the roses inside. I ran back down to the kitchen where Gram was and set the vase on the counter. The sun from the window hit it perfectly, so I stood back to admire my work. It was beautiful. Gram chuckled at my expression as she started putting the dishes back into the dusty cupboards.