Grandmother's Garden

             The mist was just clearing from the pond on the fresh Sunday morning. I sat on my little green bench under the willow tree, listening to the swaying of the leaves in the breeze. The wind still had a winter chill to it that bit your nose, but you could smell spring coming in the air. I looked around the mostly empty park. The only thing there besides me were the ducks just sitting in the pond, minding their own business, not a care in the world.

            Sometimes I think that would be nice. Not worrying about what will happen next, what has happened in the past, just being in the moment. I used to be like that, back when I was young. It was so long ago, but I hold the memories too tightly, so they can’t slip away.

            I looked up and saw some workers opening the swan boats for the early morning tourists who love to come ride with their children. The young girl who helps with the boats, took out a bag of old bread and ripped it up to feed to the ducks. They took it obediently, like well trained show dogs that have been doing this all their life.

            The girl looked up and waved at me. This is our routine, she comes, she feeds, she waves and I smile back. We have never spoken, but I know she is a kind-hearted girl by the warm smile that she shares with every person who passes. Every afternoon after her shift, a handsome young man comes by and they walk through the gardens together, back towards her life outside the boats and smiles.

            I see myself walking with my husband through the gardens, just as we had done since we were mere children. We shared 60 years, 60 wonderful, love filled years. He was my other half, my heart and soul. It was only 63 years ago today that we married. My long white gown, his sleek black tuxedo, right here in these gardens, by this tree, next to this bench.

            When I came back to the present, the park had begun to fill with people. I heard the saxophone that always plays by the entrance begin to fill the public gardens, its sweet jazz relaxing the whole atmosphere.

            On the path was a little girl with her mother, just walking through the park, holding hands. She was wearing a little pink dress as though she had just been to church. I used to walk along here, holding hands with my mom, running back and forth from the water. The little girl’s blond ringlets sprung up and down as she bounced impatiently at her mother’s side. The mother smiled at her daughter with a sparkle in her eye and released her hand. She told her to be careful in such a carefree way that the words had less weight then the 50-pound child.

            The girl ran down to the pond, towards a group of ducks. They scattered just in time to escape the danger, but still with that lazy air, that spoke of reluctance to move from their wonderful home by the pond.

            The little girl sat on the bank and just looked at the flowers and grass around her. The mother had come to sit on the other end of the bench from me. The girl looked at the reflection of the sky in the dark, misty water. She seemed to be thinking, much like I was. The serious expression on her face looked out of place on a child so young, it spoke of wisdom and pain and experience. It was the same face I saw in the mirror.

            After a while the girl rose to her feet and turned to walk back up the little hill towards her mother. When she was back on the path she turned to me and held out her hand. Inside was a daisy.

            “Here you go Miss. The white petals on this flower look like your hair. I would love for you to have it.” I smiled at the little girl, not sure what to do or say. “You have a nice smile. You should smile more, so you have less frown lines. That is what mommy says.”

            “Well, thank you very much for the flower,” I removed the flower from her hand and held it in my own. It still had a little bit of frost on it, where the dew from the morning froze.  “I will hold on to this. It is a rare thing to see a flower bloom so beautifully, so early in the spring.