The next three days were full of little adventures. On the next morning I took Elsie to the flower fields. We took the steps down the garden. This morning was a warm morning. The sun poked its head out to say hello to the new baby. The grass sways slightly in the breeze and the air is fresher than it's ever been. Elsie was leant closely against my chest. This morning I dressed her in an acorn-coloured linen romper. Her precious little feet dangle down.
She was so mesmerized by all that surrounds her, and all that surrounds her was mesmerized by her. The butterflys flitted through the meadow just to come and see her. The birds sing especially loudly for her as we pass through the citrus grove. She reached her tiny hand for an orange. I pulled it down for her but she dropped it almost instantly. I put it in my pocket for her to try later.
We headed down the dusty trail that leads to the flower fields. She held onto the back of my dress collar. I left my shoes by the side of the trail and let my bare feet feel the earth beneath them. We finally approached the hills of petals. Even the flower's turned to look at Elsie.
"How beautiful is this," I bounced her up and down on my thigh. "They're growing just for you," I told her. We trailed through the fields of yellow and she outstretched her hands so I picked a flower for her and tucked it behind her tiny little ear.
We found a warm spot in the sunlight and sat in amongst the daisies. She sat on my lap using her tiny fingers to randomly pick petals off. I glanced up at the crystal blue sky, an unbroken backdrop of colour. It was almost as if the sun was glistening it's golden rays just for us. The thin stacks of rings on my hands shimmered in the natural light.
We stared out over the endless meadow. Elsie scrunched the ends of my butter-yellow dress in her tiny palms. Where once were crops, wild flowers grow - white freckles to adorn the green. Blossoms of everlasting youth. They tickled against my thighs, surrounding them as if they were willing to grow over me. If only I would let them.
I remembered how much Anna adored the fields. We used to come down here when we were small. She'd bring an entire wheel-barrow down with her, and sometimes, on the way down, she's let me ride in it. When we eventually got there, she would get me to help her to collect bundles and bundles of blossoms.
"This one has some imperfect ones," I'd say to her as I placed an armful of daisies into the barrow.
"Beautiful things all have imperfections," she'd say as she continued. We'd collect so many flowers that even the wheel-barrow couldn't hold them all, yet the field was still an abundance. We would even bring our own woven baskets sometimes and fill them too. After we had finished, sometimes we would go to the old treehouse and hang some up to dry over Autumn. When we had done that, sometimes we spent hours just laying in the flowers and talking to each other. She would tell me about her new art project and how her teacher wanted her to paint a vase of flowers. I would tell her about how boring it was at school, and how I wished I could live here, with her. I still wish that. Then we would take the baskets and wheel-barrow all the way back up to the house. We always made mum happy by putting the flowers in vases all around the house. Our house would smell of fresh daisies for weeks. But soon, they would perish.
I brought my attention back to Elsie, who was now lying on her stomach beside me, smiling endlessly at all the beauty that surrounded her. She can't crawl just yet, but lying on her belly is her main position. I helped her back up onto my lap and we walked back towards the grove. I picked up my shoes from the pathway and left them to dangle in one hand.
The grove was growing wildly with immensely-sized lemons. I trailed through the trees and picked five of them, not even noticing their imperfections, and placed them into my basket. Elsie sat happily on my hip.
When we got back to the house there was something different in the air. I could hear the happy notes of classical music streaming throughout. Mum was sitting on the sofa, looking un-stiff for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, reading.
"How was your trip?" she glanced up and smiled. We made our way over, and I placed a yellow daisy behind mum's ear. She gave a soft smile. Now we all matched Elsie, who was becoming impatient and bouncing up and down in my arms.
"Good, I think Elsie might need a feed," I laughed and we both went over to the kitchen. Mum prepared the milk. Elsie waited patiently. As soon as the baby bottle was filled, I held it in place for her and she began to drink. It was insane how fast she could drink it. Milk leaked from the side of her mouth and I carefully wiped it away with the cloth. She gave a squeal and held onto the cloth, so I let her have it.
Later on that evening, it was time for Elsie to get some rest. We lower one side of the crib and I sit there beside her. Earlier I went into the room where we store all our books, basically another empty room, transformed into a library. And yes, we have that many books. I picked out my favourite childhood book: 'Where is the Green sheep?' by Mem Fox. I lifted the book as I cradled her in my left arm.
"Here is the blue sheep..." I began, looking down at her little face. The pages of this book smelt like the nights from my childhood bedtime. Like the nights when I was all warm and cozy after the bath, and my dad tucked me in and read me this book. His voice read these exact words. His fingers turned these same pages.
Elsie's asleep by the fifth page but I read on in whispers, just in case she was still listening. Then I stood up, gently covered her in blankets and pressed her a kiss goodnight.
