The Grave Planter

First Bloom

The graveyard started to fill with flowers five years ago. It was the Holiday Season and everyone was drunk on the festiveness that goes with it. The shops were closed down and everyone was holed up in their homes with the fireplaces on at full power. I remember steeping the roses in the teapot and arranging a plate with freshly baked pastries when my late husband returned home with his boots covered in snow. He told me, "Those pastries always smell delicious. Through all the smells, your rose tea still manages to waft through them all. It's so fragrant."

My face felt so hot that if you ran an iron over my face, the winkles might have been ironed out. He always managed to let me know he loved me everyday. Even if we fought, he always found a way to compliment me before, during, and after the entire argument. Stubborn as I am, I rarely returned them. Now, I feel that I should have let him know more.

The widow breaks down into tears.

The semicircle of people let the widow mourn for a few moments. A young couple, sitting across from the widow, gaze at her. Next to them, the grizzly man sits in a wooden chair a bit small for his frame. Near the widow, a petite woman sits on a stout stool and stares out the window. We sit directly in front of the fireplace; we're in the middle of it all.

The grizzly man rises from his chair and kneels beside the weeping widow and wraps his arms around her. "Shhh. That's why he loved you. You are one thorny woman, but he knew you loved him from the things you did. He loved you for you. As do we." He encloses her fingers around her teacup's handle. "Drink up. The warmth and tea will soothe you."

The elderly woman drinks the tea and grabs a tissue from the center table in front of the hearth. She dabs her eyes and blows her nose. The graying man rubs small circles on her back.

The widow shoos him away. He doesn't leave her side. Through a red-eyed smile she says, "Where are my manners? I didn't do introductions. I'm Gin Ellis. My husband's is Trey Ellis. The gray haired man is Mer. The couple are Mr. and Mrs. Evergreen. The young lady sitting by the window is Yon."

Everyone smiles and waves at us, except for Yon. She continues to stare out the window.

Mer clears his throat, "Shall I continue?" Gin's head bobs up and down in reply. Her face is embedded in a tissue.

"Well," he says as he sits crossed legged next to the widow's chair. "I guess I'll continue."

At that time, I was outside Gin and Trey's house. I dropped off Trey like I usually do. I helped him garden in the morning and he helped me repair items in the afternoon until night. I happened to look at the graveyard and saw that each plot had a flower blooming. The flowers looked like drops of snow under the moon and stars.

Yon interjects, "They're called snowdrops."

The grizzly man continues.

            As I was saying, the snowdrops were covered in the glow of the night. I knocked on the door and Trey greeted me. I told him about the snowdrops and he shrugged. I remember telling him, "Isn't this amazing? It's a miracle!"

            But Trey just chuckled and said, "Yes, it is a fulfilling feeling isn't it?"

            I didn't understand what he meant at that time and I still don't. But that's what he kept telling me every time I said it's a miracle. He kept telling me that all the time until his death.

            The widow sniffs into her nth tissue. "He always told me, 'Miracles are nice and all, but we can't keep depending on them. Sometimes we have to make the tiniest of miracles ourselves. In the end, it's not the miracle; it's the feeling, the memory, the fulfillment. You could say it's the feeling of being alive or believing, but it's so much more than that.'" She looks to the young couple. "Looks like the two of you have one on the way."

            A young woman with an enlarged stomach sits in a rocking chair. Her husband sits on the floor beside her.

            The woman smiles and rubs her tummy. "Yes, thanks to you and your departed husband. We wouldn't have survived that winter four years ago if it wasn't for your hospitality and generosity."

            Her husband rests his head against her leg and says, "You saved our lives and allowed us to give rise to this little one." He pokes his wife's belly.

            His wife furrows her eyebrows and swats his hand away. "Behave! I refuse to take care of an immature adult."

            He gives her a thumbs up. "You did better! You married one!"

            His wife sighs and rolls her eyes.

            The widow reaches for the teapot and attempts to pour out some tea. She can't help but chuckle. "Now that's a sight you rarely see. A husband winning an argument."

Laughter fills the room.

The widow shakes the teapot. She pulls off the teapot's lid and peeks inside. "Oh dear, it's empty. I'll go make some more."

After some time, the tea is ready.

            I take a sip and it tastes good, but different. How can I explain it? It's almost like I'm drinking strong overbearing guilt, sadness, and confusion all in one cup.

            The petite woman takes a sip and rises from her stool. "I'll stoke the fire a little bit more. After that, I'm going for a walk." She tosses a couple of logs into the fireplace and pokes them into place. She glances at you and I. Her dark brown eyes connect with mine. I look away and turn to you and whisper, "Doesn't she give you the creeps? It's a wonder she's even accepted by these people."

            Yon rises and grabs her coat from the coat hanger bursting with various jackets. She exits the house.

The couple watches Yon until the door closes behind her. Mrs. Evergreen glances at Gin. Gin passes the glance to Mer. Mer returns the glance back to Mr. Evergreen.

Mr. Evergreen clears his throat. "Well, it looks like it's our turn to tell what we know. It'll be a bit long, but bear with us."