Lost Time

My dear is out running through the long grass, chasing after the last of the rain that is travelling West. She never liked parting with what has come into her life, and that includes the dreadful rainstorm that ruined our front fence. She runs to me for warmth, and I give it to her as we sit on the front porch together.

“My dear, I will be going away for a short time. There is something I wish to do for you, for you are so rare and precious to me. I will be gone for no longer than a week, just in time for the first snow fall.”

Her precious hands cradle my face, and her honey brown eyes look into mine.

“Father, what is so important that you must leave for a week?”

“My dear, I wish to bring you a gift that only you deserve! Before the snow falls on the ground I will be by your side. If any eyes are worthy of looking at such a gift, it is your honey brown eyes.”

She looks at me with a furrowing brow, then her face softens, and she smiles.

“You are so silly! There is nothing more I really need here. I have the beautiful land and sky as my ever-changing painting to gaze upon, I see a fire that keeps our home running, and most valuable of all, I have you to keep me warm when it rains. My eyes don’t need to look at anything else, especially when I can look at your love for me daily.”

How kind is my daughter! Her thoughts and speech are incredibly sweet, honey must flow through her veins! It is all the more reason I must get her this gift without question.

You see, I want to get this flower for my dear, because it is as rare as she. What makes this flower rare is not the lack of it in the world; there are thousands upon thousands of these flowers laying in fields on the West side of the mountain – enough for every villager in the province and their horses tenfold. Rather, it is the greedy timekeeper that keeps all these flowers for his despicable, distasteful, scrooge-like self. He is the one that makes getting this flower so burdensome. Why does the timekeeper need fields of precious flowers all to himself?

The flowers are ranked the greatest in beauty, rumoured to have crimson red pedals draping to the ground and deep gold lining. It is obvious this flower would be the greatest gift for my sweet girl. I wish for her to truly know how much I love her. What more can I give?

“I must go my dear. In a week’s time you will see why I am leaving for you. A week is not such a long time is it now?”

“I suppose not. I do not want you to go, my desire is for you to stay and keep me warm. But I cannot stop you from leaving. Promise you will be back by the first snowfall next week.”

“Do not worry, I will return by the first snowfall next week. I will be right by your side keeping you warm.”

“Okay”. There seems to be an ache in her voice, and her smile became weary. “I will miss you until then. I LOVE YOU.”

Off I went. I mount my horse and wave goodbye to my dear on the front porch, unable to keep my eyes off her as I wave. Suddenly a flash crosses my mind, and her scene becomes engraved in my memory. It seems that my mind took a vivid picture of my dear waving goodbye to me on the front porch; I see her beige dress, worn out shoes, and hair flowing in the cold wind. Her smile and honey brown eyes… are so beautiful. Why did my mind suddenly decide to do such a heart aching thing? I must get this flower for her at once.

My horse carries me through the glorious fall leaves that are radiating the last of their colours as their final performance. I camp by the riverside overnight, and at sunrise I find my feet naturally walking towards the sweetest aroma to ever consume my lungs. I cannot bring myself to wake fully until I encounter armies upon armies of flowers that instantly attract my eyes! I found them so quickly and much easier than expected. My feet hasten towards the fields when I catch a well-dressed man walking out of a nearby cabin, staring into my being. His suit is crimson red with gold lining that is identical to the flowers – how horrid. He’s quite young for a human who has lived here before my time. I halt at the sight of him as he steps towards me with a grave appearance. The timekeeper may think that he strikes fear into my heart but does not know that my idea of him is that he is simply worthless.

“Hello.”

The most unusual ‘hello’ I have ever heard. I do not have patience for greetings with such a selfish being. 

“I am here to collect a single flower for my daughter waiting for me at home. I will take a flower to her so that she may know my love for her. You have great fields of these flowers. It is certainly not a problem for you to give me one.”

The timekeeper exhibits no change in expression as I present my request. The atmosphere becomes abnormally silent to the point where I do not think I can hear the wind blowing, or even feel the wind for that matter. The pedals of the flowers do not seem to be moving and I am no longer cold. Has time stopped? I turn to look back at the timekeeper who is staring fiercely at me. The silence is broken as he speaks.

“These flowers are time; these flowers are mine. Do not take what is times. I’ve seen many people attempt to retrieve this flower for their dears with only a miserable end to follow. Please return home to your daughter without this flower. Present yourself to your daughter instead and keep time in its place.”

I shall be persistent in my pursuit. My daughters knows that I love her, however recent years I have not been able to give her anything more than warmth.

“Timekeeper. It is obvious that you desire to keep these flowers for yourself. One flower will only be a small portion of time. My daughter is most worthy of receiving just one of these flowers as a gift.

The timekeepers’ eyes widen. 

“You find me distasteful; I can hear your thoughts. But hear my thoughts when I cry for you and warn you ‘do not take this flower, do not pluck time out of its place’. Return home before snowfall and keep your dear warm.”

“NO.”

 Then the strangest event happened. The timekeeper froze with his wide eyes staring at mine, knelt his head to the earth, and turns his back towards me.

“You may take a flower.” He spoke. Then walks back to his cabin and shut the door.

 I quickly dig up a flower, wrapping the roots in a cloth and sealing it in a pouch attached to my horse’s saddle. I have finally retrieved the rarest gift in the province for my dear, leaving the ride home the last step of my journey. While preparing to leave I reflect on my encounter with the timekeeper. I am not sure as to why there are countless rumours regarding the difficulty of retrieving this flower. I suppose people do not know how to be consistent in their requests to the point where the timekeeper would capitulate. 

I observe my surroundings along the pathway home and sense something strangely different. The leaves are falling off the trees rather quickly than usual though I have only left them this morning. Why are they falling off so soon? I suppose the wind may be blowing them away before their time, but still it feels odd given there was a considerable amount of leaves on the trees this morning. The path before me is slightly covered over with grass and dirt as if it is unused. I just need to get home and be gone of this eerie feeling growing in my heart.

I am fighting against strong winds to get home as urgently, when I abruptly stop to ensure what I am seeing is real. I reach out my hand and floating down the sky is a snowflake.

“Snow? How can it be snowing?”

A wave of snow begins to pour. Something gravely ill is happening. I must reach home to my daughter as fast as I can! I panic and ride home through the snowy winds for what strangely feels like years. The snow is expected to come next week as it always does every year, and my daughter and I are supposed to cherish it together. It is impossible that the first snow fall is happening now. The land is changing quickly to the point where the path is becoming unrecognizable! I keep moving until finally, I see my house in the distance. The memory that became engraved in my mind returns to me and I cannot wait to see my dear waving hello to me on the porch instead of goodbye.

I reach into my pouch to grab the flower, only to see it crumble and wither away like lost time. The older lady sitting in my rocking chair takes hold of my gift for a moment then tosses the remains to the side to be taken by the wind. He hair is as white as the snow on the ground, her frame frail, and her hands that seem to have worked a lifetime cradle my face instead of the flower.

“Come sit beside me, I am so cold.”