Lavender

Now, I suggest that you should not underestimate me. I am pretty agile for my age; I am simply just enjoying- or trying to enjoy this peaceful spring evening on this park bench. A quick rest is all I need. I can tell from your glances that you are debating on finding someone to help accompany me to where I need to go.

I look much older than I really am. Age has not been very kind to me; nor has the earth and fate for that matter.  I guess you could peg me as in my 80s turning 90, but I was born in 1942. My skin is like leather with bumps and spots everywhere. There are wrinkles everywhere, mostly around my mouth and eyes. I have little to no hair left, I try to keep it hidden under my cap. The only thick hair left is my very well-groomed, grey and white mustache. My eyes used to carry joy and love in them but now they are only hollow orbs of a soulless man.

As I glance around the park, attempting to focus on anything else, I see a bunch of old geezers coming my way. These are not just any old dames, but the ones that I have been avoiding for some time now. I guess I’ll have to cut my rest short and stroll down the rest of the pathway to home; I would rather not be seen by those old women.  

I guess I struggled to get up this time, my legs felt like sticks that were about to snap for a minute there. These old joints require a good tuning. With a huff, I casually stroll down the path, admiring the bare branches and the spots of snow that are still on the ground.

 As I walk, I sadly get reminders that winter has passed, and spring has begun. I used to love spring. The gentle winds, budding plants, and the rabbits changing their colours, they all used to endear me. I loved how as time moved on the flowers would bloom and the air would smell delightful. Lavender was once my favorite of all the beautiful smells in this world. 

I remember it fondly; I would quietly get out of our bed, letting you sleep longer as I rose to go start my day. You always looked so peaceful. I would go tend to the cows and pigs. I’d visit with our horses and check on the chickens. When I would finish with my morning rounds, I would trail on back to our porch where you would be waiting. You always had my favorite mug, filled with fresh coffee in your right hand. In the other, a bouquet of lavender and baby’s breath. A tradition since the first official day of our married life together. 

My mind wanders on these cherished memories as I stop to examine the small pond alongside the edge of the pathway. I watch as a few ducks swimming around the patches of ice that is occupy the parameter of the pond. They seem to not have a care in the world, something I guess I have in common with these mundane aquatic birds. I know that I should still care about things, the things that truly matter. Our kids, our grandkids, they matter. I know they do; they are all I have left of you.

Anything reminds me of you during this time of year. The first day we met was the first day of spring, in this spot, the first words you ever spoke to me were, “You know you shouldn’t be feeding the ducks and geese bread. It’s bad for them.”. I hear them in my head like you were right beside me.

I must have been watching the ducks for a while. The sun had already set and dusk looms all around me. As I walk, I try to find other things to occupy my mind. How nice it still out, minus the cool night’s air, or how there are still people out and enjoying the warm evening breeze; even my old bones are enjoying the temperature for once. I watch the sparrows hop around on the dead grass patches, the occasional squirrel that sneaks around the dogs with a mouth full of seeds, and then I saw it- I saw her. 

A butterfly gliding through the trees and right past my nose. I know it is her- she always said she’d come back as a butterfly; I just don’t know why it took her so long. I watched it as it landed on a bench right beside a young lady- a young lady who looks just like her.

I probably stood there for a few minutes, staring in awe. The smooth olive-toned skin, the long auburn hair that glistened in the sun, and the eyes. Oh, the eyes. Those warm and inviting hazel eyes that could never quite settle on which colour it was more of. The eyes that warmed my cold and sharp eyes so long ago. Yes, there were differences between this lady and my one true love. 

The facial expressions and the way she sat, a slumped back as her head tilted to the side, as she read something on her cell phone. My Anne always had perfect posture. She always used to say that if you wanted to show confidence, to keep a perfect posture and to show elegance in the way one moved. She was truly remarkable, the way she saw this now dimly lit world.  

As I walked over to the bench, the young lady looked up and smiled at me. Not my Anne’s smile, but close enough. As I settled down beside her, I introduced myself and she did the same. As we chatted, I did not focus too hard on our conversation, but the butterfly that was still flying around me. As timed passed, the lamps in the park flickered on and the young lady, who I learned was named Avery, stood up to part ways with me. 

Before she walked away, she asked if I looked like someone that I love but lost. This baffled me. I didn’t know what to say at first. She told me I had that certain look in my eyes that her grandfather had when he looked at his wife. She gave me a warm smile and carried off into the night.  

I sat there for who knows how long. Pondering the events that unfolded before me. Both were now gone, the butterfly and young Avery, but they stayed so sharply in my mind. Maybe that’s why I did not get up right away. I didn’t want to leave the spot that made my heartbeat again. Even though it was now spring, the night air had cooled off and my light jacket didn’t seem so warm anymore. 

As I walked home, my steps felt lighter. I now walked as straight as an old man could, with perhaps a bounce in my step. Maybe, just maybe, she never left me on this earth alone. I just didn’t care to look hard enough. The night sky seemed brighter as I beamed up at it before walking into my small home. 

Maybe I underestimated fate. My world no longer felt dull and gray; I now saw it through a warm lavender haze.