Flowers for Maribel

By J.A. Roggie

Content Warning: This story touches on themes of mental health (grief, aging, and emotional struggles) and substance abuse (mention of drug addiction). It also explores the loss of loved ones and the emotional toll of memory loss. Reader discretion is advised.

Delph stood at the edge of the overgrown path, staring up at the wall of trees that loomed ahead like ancient sentinels. Their trunks were thick and gnarled, bark furrowed like old skin, each one soaked in the deep browns and soft greens of a forest that had seen too many seasons to care about men. The leaves above rustled gently in the wind, whispering secrets to one another. A damp, earthy scent rose from the soil, rich with decay and life, like the breath of the world itself. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out, a lonely, high-pitched trill that echoed through the underbrush and faded into silence.

He sighed, the sound catching in his throat like an old memory and turned to glance back at the trailer behind him. It sagged under its own weight, the paint peeling, porch steps crooked and falling apart. A rusty swing swayed in the breeze, squeaking with each movement.

Ninety-four years old. That was how long he lived on this planet and most folks didn’t think a man his age should be wandering around at all, let alone in the woods by himself. Hell, most didn’t think he should be doing anything by himself anymore. They whispered things about safety and fall risks and caretakers. They said it like he was already gone.

His chest tightened, not from the walk, but from the ache that never quite left. His wife, God bless her sweet soul, had passed three years ago. And when she left, it felt like the color drained out of the world. Without both their checks coming in, and the burial cost, he lost their condo. The military checks helped, but not enough. Nothing ever seemed to be enough anymore.

So, they shipped him here. Out of the city, to the middle of nowhere. To live with his grandson.

He turned back toward the trailer again, eyes narrowed beneath his heavy brows. He loved the boy. That much hadn’t changed. The drugs had sunk their claws deep in the boy, leaving him a ghost of the bright kid he used to be. Right now, he was probably passed out in his room, strung out on something so twisted and unnatural that God Himself would have wept to see it.

Delph’s checks from the military had quietly been disappearing for months now. He had an idea where they were going.

Delph or rather, Sergeant Delph Marisson, retired, scratched his balding head as he turned back toward the looming wall of trees. Somewhere in that dense green was Lulu, his late wife’s cat. The little devil had slipped out while he was fumbling for the morning paper, vanishing into the brush like a whisper on the wind.

Lulu was a menace. Pure trouble wrapped in gray fur, but he loved her. Would never say it out loud, mind you. It wasn’t proper for a man like him, not becoming of a Sergeant to go around getting mushy over a cat. But Lulu had been Maribel’s. The last living piece of her in this world, and that meant something.

To be fair, even the memories of Maribel were slipping these days. Some mornings he woke up certain she’d just stepped out of the room, and other days he couldn’t recall the exact color of her eyes. That tore at him more than anything else.

He let out a rough grunt and rolled his shoulders. “Well, Lulu,” he muttered, “I guess if I’m going to find you, I’d better get moving.”

His eyes drifted back to the wall of trees. Thick trunks pressed tight together; branches knotted overhead like old bones. It looked like a place that didn’t want visitors. But just as he was about to give up and hope Lulu returned on her own, his gaze landed on a narrow gap in the underbrush. A break, just barely wide enough for an old man to squeeze through.

With a grunt, he shuffled forward. His knees creaked in protest as he crouched, the joints popping like snapping twigs. Damp leaves brushed his arms, and the cool scent of moss curled into his nose. The air here was different, cleaner.

He pushed his way through the opening and stumbled into a clearing on the other side.

"Lulu?" he called, his voice soft and gravelly. It didn’t carry far.

Only silence answered him.

He turned, glancing back toward the narrow break in the wall of trees, trying to mark its location in his mind. The opening was already starting to blend into the green behind him, as if the forest was trying to swallow it whole. Slowly, deliberately, Delph began to take in his surroundings.

What stretched out before him was a place untouched by human hands for what felt like centuries. Not even the faintest echo of civilization lingered. Just a few feet beyond the homes of addicts and desperation, this place bloomed like a secret Eden, beautiful, quiet, and pure. The air smelled sweet with wildflowers and rich. Birds chirped softly in the canopy above, and somewhere nearby, the wings of insects hummed like tiny violins.

To his right lay a wide pond, its glassy surface rippling beneath the golden sunlight. Delph squinted and smiled as he spotted lazy dorsal fins slicing through the water, the fish basking in the warmth, just beneath the surface. It was the kind of peace that made you forget the rest of the world existed.

A deep, contented smile spread across his weathered face.

He remembered his own grandfather then, how they used to sit on a muddy riverbank with old fishing poles and a coffee can full of worms. Delph had been a terrible fisherman. Couldn’t catch a cold if he fell in. But his grandfather? That man could yank a bass out of a mud puddle with a bent nail and string. He chuckled softly, eyes still on the pond.

If he were here, he’d already be seated, line in the water and sun on his face, grinning like everything was right in the world.

“I’ll have to come back here,” Delph murmured, mostly to himself. “Bring a pole, maybe a sandwich. Just sit and listen to the water for a while.”

He turned, heart a little lighter than it had been in weeks, and that’s when he saw her. Lulu. The gray streak of fur danced up a winding path that twisted through the trees like it had been carved by wind and time. It led upward, toward another clearing bathed in soft, dappled light.

“Lulu? Come here, girl,” he called gently.

But Lulu had her own ideas. She never even looked back, just padded gracefully up the path, tail flicking in the air tauntingly.

Delph sighed and continued after her, boots crunching softly on the forest path. Halfway up the hill, he paused and glanced back at the pond below. For a moment, he thought he saw someone sitting on the bank with a fishing pole in hand. The figure was still, relaxed, just like his grandfather used to be. A crooked smile tugged at Delph’s lips. He lifted his hand in a slow wave, feeling a flicker of warmth in his chest.

It looked so much like him.

But as quickly as the vision appeared, it faded, like smoke dissolving in the wind. The figure was gone, and the bank sat empty again. His smile dimmed. His old mind liked to play these tricks, dragging up memories when he least expected them. It didn’t worry him anymore; it was just part of the way things worked now. Still, it hurt when the face of someone you loved slipped away like that, piece by piece.

He turned back to the trail and climbed.

On the next rise, the forest opened into a wide ledge bathed in radiant sunlight. Lulu was there, prancing in the grass and chasing a butterfly with the enthusiasm of a kitten. Delph chuckled, the sound gravelly but warm. She wasn’t a young cat anymore, but she moved with a spring in her step that defied the years.

“I wish I had half your energy,” he muttered with a wheeze as he leaned on his knees.

The clearing around him was beautiful, soft moss underfoot, wildflowers swaying in a light breeze that carried the scent of pine and something sweet he couldn’t quite place. He crouched down slowly, his knees protesting the motion, and picked a pair of small white flowers. He used to do that for Maribel when they were young, back when wildflowers and laughter were all they needed to get through the day.

“Maybe I’ll give these to you when I get back,” he whispered, holding them gently between weathered fingers.

He rose and continued onward, the forest swaying around him as he climbed. The trail led to a vast open plateau ringed by trees so tall their tops were lost in the light above. To his left, a group of wild horses grazed peacefully in the tall grass. They lifted their heads at his approach, dark eyes studying him with quiet intelligence.

They didn’t bolt. They didn’t panic.

They simply watched him, like they understood something he didn’t yet know.

Delph stood there, watching the wild horses as they grazed peacefully before him. The soft breeze stirred their manes, making the scene feel almost dreamlike. His eyes followed a young buckskin filly, bouncing and prancing in the field with carefree joy. She seemed to have no worries at all, moving with a freedom that Delph hadn’t felt in years.

He smiled quietly to himself, content just to observe. It had been many years since he’d seen anything so pure, so untouched. These animals were at peace with the world around them, and in that moment, Delph felt the weight of the world, his aches, grief, and struggles of his days, slip away.

He watched them for what must have been close to half an hour, his heart lightened by their antics, their grace. He couldn’t help but laugh softly as the young filly kicked up her hooves, spinning in circles as if the very ground beneath her feet was a dance floor. The world here was different, simpler. And for the first time in a long while, Delph felt like everything was well in the world.

But then, with a slight shake of his head, he remembered his purpose. Lulu. Where had she gone? His eyes scanned the field, searching for the familiar grey streak of her fur.

His gaze shifted, and there, before him, was something even more stunning than the horses. The entire area seemed enclosed, protected by a towering cliff face that arched around him, guarding the peaceful land from the harshness of the outside world. It was like nature itself had built a sanctuary here, keeping all the worries and troubles of the world at bay.

Delph took a step forward, his old knees creaking slightly. As he did, his eyes were drawn to the water cascading gracefully from the cliff face. The waterfall fell in a soft, steady rhythm, pooling into a crystal-clear pond below, its surface gleaming in the sunlight like polished glass.

“How beautiful...” Delph whispered, a quiet, wistful smile tugging at his lips. “Maribel would have loved this.”

He slowly crouched down, reaching out toward the water, his fingers brushing against the smooth stones lining the edge. The water was so clear, so pristine. Beneath the surface, small lizards darted playfully, their lithe bodies weaving between the rocks.

Delph chuckled softly, the sound carrying the weight of a thousand memories. He remembered how, as a boy, he and his sister would catch little creatures like these, before the world had gotten so complicated, before screens and devices stole their attention.

He dipped his hand into the water, letting the coolness of it seep into his weathered skin. He waited patiently as the lizards swam closer. It wasn’t long before one glided over his palm, its tiny feet brushing against him. Without a second thought, Delph closed his hand, catching the little creature in his grasp.

For a moment, he held it there, the soft thrum of its tiny body against his palm, feeling an unexpected connection to the wildness around him. The peacefulness, the simplicity, the sheer beauty of the world he had stumbled upon was almost too much to grasp. But for once, Delph didn’t mind. He let the moment overtake him, just for a breath.

Delph gently lifted the little newts from the water, his heart lightening at the sight of its tiny, delicate form. A smile spread across his face, soft and full of warmth. “Hello, little fella,” he murmured, the joy of the moment blooming in his chest. There was something comforting about holding life, even this small, simple creature. Slowly, he lowered his hand, allowing the newt to swim free again. As it disappeared beneath the surface, a single tear slipped down Delph’s cheek. Joy brought on by his memories overtaking him.

He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and, with a sigh, rose to his feet, his joints creaking slightly in protest. He stood for a moment, taking in the quiet beauty around him, then continued his journey through the clearing, his old legs carrying him forward with steady, deliberate steps.

But then, his eyes fell upon something that stopped him in his tracks. A house nestled just below the towering stone cliff face. Water tumbled over the edge of the cliff, creating another waterfall that cascaded down, forming a small stream that wound its way around the house. The house itself was untouched, pristine, and it seemed to shimmer in the soft light. It was a place that had been cared for, loved even, but it seemed as though it had been forgotten by time.

Delph’s breath caught in his chest as he slowly made his way toward the house, drawn to it as if something inside was calling him. The stream babbled gently as he crossed a small wooden bridge that arched over it. He made his way up the stairs, each step bringing him closer to the strange, peaceful world he had wandered into.

Reaching the door, Delph hesitated for a moment before knocking softly. Of course, there was no one here, how could there be? A place like this, so far removed from everything. But then, as if to answer his doubt, a voice came from within.

“Come in!” The voice was soft and welcoming, a woman’s voice, clear, melodic, and strangely familiar.

Delph’s hand trembled as he reached up to turn the doorknob. With a slow breath, he stepped inside. At first, the bright light of the room blinded him, but as his eyes adjusted, he found himself standing in a cozy dining room. And there, at the table, sat a woman, his wife, Maribel.

Her soft laughter filled the air as she sat with Lulu curled up in her lap, exactly as Delph remembered her, the way she had looked when they first met, so full of life and warmth.

“Mar? Is... Is that you?” His voice cracked, the weight of the years falling away as he spoke her name.

She giggled, that sweet, sing-song voice he had loved so much. “It’s me, Del. Come in. Get yourself something to eat.”

Delph took a few hesitant steps forward, the room spinning slightly around him. His eyes were drawn to a full-length mirror on the far wall, and as he gazed into it, he froze, his breath catching in his chest.

There, reflected in the glass, was his younger self, twenty-two again. He was strong, well-muscled from years of hard work. He looked so... whole. So alive. He felt no pain or trembling; His weariness was gone.

He blinked, his heart racing as he turned back to her, his voice trembling. “Mar?” he whispered again, unable to understand what his eyes were telling him.

She smiled at him, her eyes shining with warmth that made Delph’s heart ache. “It’s different here,” she said softly, her voice like a soothing melody. “You, we… we’re young and vibrant. We can stay here forever together. Just you and me.”

Delph’s chest tightened, and before he could stop it, tears welled up in his eyes. They spilled over, tracing a slow path down his weathered face. He couldn’t help it, the weight of years, pain of loss, the longing for this impossible dream, it all broke through. He stepped forward, his hands trembling as he held out the delicate flowers he had picked earlier.

He half-expected them to vanish in his hands like so many other illusions, like the memories that had slipped from his mind over time. He braced himself for the sting of disappointment. But instead, she reached out, her fingers soft as she took the flowers from him. She lifted them to her nose, inhaling their sweet scent deeply, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips.

Delph’s heart swelled at the sight. A gentle warmth spread through him, peace, like a balm to the ache in his soul. He watched her for a moment, his tears falling freely now, each drop a mixture of joy and sorrow. This was real. She was real, standing in front of him.

Maribel looked up at him, her eyes locking with his, and for the first time in a long while, Delph felt a genuine smile tug at his lips. Slowly, he seated himself at the table, the chair creaking beneath him. The weight of years of grief seemed to lift, if only for a moment. Here, in this strange, beautiful place, he was with her again.