Purple Flowers

Dear Saul,

This is Virdra, and these seeds (see envelope), are from Katy. She wanted you to know something, and had meant to tell you when she got out of the hospital. When she got the bad news, she decided she wanted to write you a story. I received an envelope from her with her story, and a note to me saying, "Virdra, my dying wish is that you be my editor. Polish this and send it to Saul". You know her sense of humor. Here's her story.

...

Once upon a time there was a Mother who gave birth to a smart and pretty Girl. Mother loved her very much. When the Girl was born, Mother planted a Jacaranda tree, so that as her daughter grew, so would the tree, and the first bloom of the tree, which took 14 years, would mark her daughter's flowering into womanhood.

 Through good times and bad times, warm sunshine and cold icy rain, the Jacaranda tree and the Girl thrived. Mother worked very hard to provide everything for her daughter, and though life sometimes bore her a heavy load, she had only to think of her smart, beautiful daughter, or to see in her small yard the strong, healthy Jacaranda sapling, with its fernlike leaves and it's low branches that spread like an unfolding palm, and she would be at peace.

On the Girl's 14th birthday, Mother woke up as a child does on Christmas morning. She had dreamed happily of the promise of something new but long-awaited in the form of a bud on her Jacaranda tree. She was afraid then, that dreams do not always come true, and she crept to the window that looked out at the yard. She saw nothing unusual, but a little bud is too small to see from so far away, so she crept outside. Slowly she walked, full of wonder, holding her breath. At last, she saw it! It was so small, but it was something new, and it was a promise fulfilled, and for the rest of her life, the sight of Jacaranda trees in bloom meant true happiness to Mother, and Mother's happiness was Daughter's joy.

It came to pass that Mother became sick. The illness was a family curse, cast long ago.

"Daughter", said Mother. "I am sick, and when the Jacaranda tree blooms, I shall be no more"

"I shall pray to the tree, that its purple flowers might restore you and lift our curse. Otherwise I shall hate the tree and its purple flowers for the rest of my life"

But Mother said, "I know you, daughter, and I believe that love will win over hate in the end, for love is like a seed that needs both sun and rain to grow strong."

When the Jacaranda fell into bloom that spring, alas, Mother was no more, and Daughter, hated the tree and its purple flowers. It pained her heart to see the tree, so strong and beautiful, blooming as if to mock her grief. For three springs she watched it bloom, while her heart still grieved, and on the third spring, she cut down the tree, believing that all the love in her heart was gone.

In the summer of that year, a smart and handsome boy appeared in the Girl's life, and, like a near-dead flower that quickly springs back to life after one day of rain, the Girl's heart was renewed with love. The Boy and the Girl became friends and lovers. The Girl loved the way the boy delighted when he played the drums, and the way he danced with joy when he saw her after a long day's work. The Girl had almost forgotten her misery, and she no longer hated to see the Jacaranda trees in bloom. Now, it was the stump in her yard that she was loth to see. It became her dream to leave her house, its bad memories and barren back yard, and live together with the Boy far away and forever.

Sadly, it came to pass that the Girl fell ill, and by the next spring she would be no more. The Boy became aggrieved, and confessed to her a thought that long-troubled his heart:

"I had felt that our love was not meant to last, for once there was a great and beautiful tree that bloomed purple flowers over yonder, and in its blooming I felt hope in love everlasting, but one day it was cut, and I lost my hope. How lucky I was to have found you soon after, but thenceforth I felt that the tree's absence was a bad omen, and I secretly dreaded a day when our love would be no more. Now I shall never love again!"

The next day the Boy was called away on a great expedition, and by the time he returned, the Girl was no more.

The Girl had not the heart to tell the boy it was she who cut that tree down, back when she too felt that her love was all gone. However, she saw now what the Boy could not, that love survives even the coldest winters and the driest scorching summers, the sharpest blades, and the deepest wounds. So, for her last request, she asked that her tree's seeds, which slept undisturbed in pods scattered about her yard, be gathered and sent to the Boy, and it was her dying wish that the boy plant the seeds next to her grave so that in time, the Spring would celebrate her memory with purple flowers, which she had learned at the end of her life to love again.

The Girl left this world hoping that the Boy would not let his heart be shut away, that love would be swift to return to it, and that the purple flowers that bloomed on the Jacaranda trees in spring would remind him only of happiness, all that was and all still to come. For love is a seed that needs the sun and the rain to grow strong.

...

Katy loved you and she wanted you to know that you deserve to be happy. She told me "don't let Saul mope around forever, or I'll haunt his ass."  

Everybody misses you here. Give us a call the next time you get service.

Love, Virdra.