Spring flowers

The light shone through my kitchen window as I poured myself a cup of tea. The first sign of warmth and brightness this year, it was nice. I missed the feeling of the sun on my eyelids. The entire winter had been drab, the sky grey, with about a foot of snow and constant hailstorms making it awful to go outside. 

I rinsed my cup and put a light sweater on before stepping out the door. 

Today’s as good as ever to take a stroll. It was late enough in the season that the world didn’t give off that muddy vibe. You know the one, where the grass is brown and everything else is just so blagh. 

It’s a lot easier to breathe today, and the leaves on the trees are back. 

I started walking along the park path. 

It was still early enough in the morning that everything was still covered with dew. As I walked deeper into the park's path, the trees got thicker. 

The path was also framed by different types of plants, such as carnations. My breath turned shaky as her voice played like a record in my mind. I thought I had gotten better but-

“Red Carnations, for you. Because I do adore you, my dear.” Amelia spoke softly. She had always loved studying the meaning of plants, that’s one of the things I had loved about her. 

She had even opened up her own flower shop, called it “Amelia's Camellias” which I always thought was a cute name. 

“Well, if I had a tiger lily I’d give it to you because it’s pretty just as you are.” I remember saying back. I’d never really been good at flirting, she still put up with me, though. 

“Tiger lilies represent disdain but I’ll give you a pass cause you’re cute when you’re flustered.” She was always better with words. I had no idea how she could memorize all those meanings though.

I’m glad it was early enough in the morning that no one was really outside. Not sure how long I was standing there, kind of just staring at a carnation. 

I kept walking along the path, the light fading out more as the trees started overlapping one another. The next patch of flowers on the path were just some cute little buttercups. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she said as I lay flat on the grass. 

“It’s fine. I should have been paying attention.” I replied, before she extended her hand out to me. I reached out to grab it, seeing how small and stubby my hands were before getting to my feet.

“I’m Amelia. Who are you?” she questioned, now staring at me.

“Uhm- Stella. Wait, what are you doing, sitting on the ground?” I asked. 

As she spoke I remember being able to see some of her teeth missing, the problem is every time she opened her mouth the gaps in her teeth changed. 

“Looking at the buttercups!” She said with a wide smile, again the gaps in her teeth changed. I guess it had been over 20 years since this really happened but it felt like I was meeting her for the first time. 

“Oh, yeh? They’re pretty.” I said, looking down and seeing her yellow-stained hands before she shoved buttercups in my face. 

“Did you know if you put them under your face, your chin will glow yellow? But only if you like butter.” Amelia said, her eyebrows scrunched in a serious fashion. 

“So, they’re magic?” I had asked, skeptically. 

“Yep! I got a book on them AND my mom said they were.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” I giggled, this girl seemed so determined and crazy. I liked it. 

“Got any more buttercup facts?” I asked. She grinned wildly before grabbing my face and whispering, 

“A whole book full of ‘em! C’mon, I’ll show you.” And there I went, being dragged off by this crazy, passionate girl.

As the memory began to subside I smiled warmly at the buttercup patch and kept walking. 

Streaks of light came through the trees ever so often and warmly shown on my skin. I hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten. A shiver went down my spine. The path wasn’t that long, a little bit longer won’t hurt. 

Weeds stuck out in random spots of the path, Amelia always says she admires weeds, especially dandelions. She likes how they grew at the most odd places. “They go through so much, break through the cement just to be ridiculed.” She had always said, jokingly mad. I think she only said that because when I was first getting to know and bond with her I’d pick them off and make flower crowns for her, not realizing they had been weeds. She was sweet about it, though. She had always been kind to me. Smart, too. I could listen to her talking about plants for hours. Her eyes always lit up as she spoke about it. She had owned possibly over a hundred plants and named all of them. Her voice would get all high pitched when talking to them. She had the singing voice of a cat trying to play a bagpipe but she always sang to the plants, saying it ‘made them happy’. I wasn’t sure if that was true but her passion made my heart swell. 

I kept walking, bushes of hydrangeas began to line the path. 

“Tulips or hydrangeas?” Amelia asked.

“Hmm?” I replied, my head elsewhere. 

“For the centerpieces, tulips or hydrangeas?” 

“Tulips? I feel like hydrangeas are more of a ‘bouquet tossing’ type of flower.” I replied. Frankly I couldn’t care less about the flowers as long as I got to see her walking down that isle. 

She smiled sweetly, before checking off ‘centerpieces’ on our wedding list and scrawling down “tulips” 

The wedding wasn’t for several months but she was so worried about every detail. 

“Ok, just a few more details to deal with, and all those invitations we have to write plus Jared is having trouble with the store, so I have to go back, watering plants didn’t seem like that hard of a job but I guess I’ve overestimated his abilities.” her brow furrowed, the determination of this woman was absolutely beautiful. 

“Hey…” I said softly, cupping her face in my hands and kissing her forehead softly.

“I’ll take care of the invitations. You go check on the store and then go have a day off from all of this. You deserve it.” I said, running my fingers through her hair. I knew it was impossible to take a break completely but her going to check up on her employees on her day off might take her mind off wedding planning. 

“What- no. Stella Martina Baker, you will not be writing those invitations alone. Let me help.” She said, firmly, before resting her head on my chest. 

“I have a list of names, I write fast. Goooo, go away. Shoo. you are no longer welcomed in this household.” I said, her soft chuckle quavered through my ribcage. 

“Fine. I’m going to check on the store, then I’m coming right back to help you.” she said stubbornly. 

“Gooo. How about instead of coming directly back, you go get ice cream first, okay?” I asked, pressing a 10 dollar bill in her hand. 

“Now go.”

“Fine. The name list is on the kitchen table. Goodbye.” She said before walking out the door. A sigh of relief left my mouth, thinking I’d never get her to stop worrying about the wedding. 

Seconds later she peeked her head through the door.

“What kind of ice cream do you want?” she asked.

“Mint chip. Thank you.” I replied before she once again walked out the door. 

Still alone on the path, I picked a bundle of hydrangeas from one of the bushes before continuing to walk again. I wandered onto one of the smaller paths. No, wondered wasn’t the correct word. I knew exactly where I was going. The park grew colder and the path condensed but I kept going, my heart pounding as memories flooded through my mind. 

And there it was. The trees stripped away as I walked into the clearing, the sun once again enveloping me, yet there was no warmth.

With the hydrangeas still clenched tightly in my hand, I took a step, then another, and another. Until I was there, kneeling at her grave. 

“Here lies Amelia Baker. Beloved daughter and wife. You will be missed” Her headstone read. It’s been 4 years since that day, 4 years since I’d visited this place. 

“I’m sorry, my love. I hope you can forgive me before I see you again.” I whispered before placing the hydrangeas down on her grave. 

I thought of leaving. I had made my peace after all. Instead, as warmth filled me and as dumb as it sounds, I sat there on that spring morning for hours, explaining all the beautiful plants I had seen on the walk.