Garden of Healing

Beads of perspiration formed on her forehead as Anna maneuvered around the narrow roads of London, swerving aside to let other impatient cars through, while avoiding the monstrous red buses altogether. Her eyes were alert for the occasional well-suited businessman dashing across the road; probably running late for one of his meetings. Only when she reached one of the junctions near Piccadilly Circus, could she stop at the red light and take a breather. “Why did I forget my documents at the office?” She scolded herself for having to rush back to her desk to retrieve them, before setting off for the retirement village in County Durham. A five-hour drive from the city of London, Anna was off to a late start after leaving her office at 12 noon. “Sorry grandma, I will reach a little later.” She muttered to herself disgruntledly. These documents were important ones, full of reports from customers on faulty garden tool products. Handling customer complaints on a daily basis, Anna pondered whether she should sleep holding onto them so that she would never lose them.

As the clouds cleared and the late afternoon sun rose higher, Anna felt her eyes drooping. Fortunately, there were less cars on the road and the previously narrow paths stretched outwards, giving Anna more space and less worries of colliding with other vehicles. The scenes outside her window also transitioned from tall, dark concrete buildings to wider marshlands, quieter settings and the skies looked like they could go on forever. ‘This would be a perfect place for painting.’ Anna’s eyes sparkled as she caught a glimpse of a wild hare bolting across the road. She reminisced on the old days where she could spend the whole day painting flowers at school, while listening to her teacher talk about blending colors together to make a myriad of shades. The thrill of picking up her paintbrush, of choosing the colors she wanted, of being in control of creating something on a blank canvas, she remembered it all. A wave of regret hit her as she recalled giving up art school to pursue a degree in mass communications, upon listening to the practical advice of her friends and family members. “There is no future in the arts.” The words of her then best friend still lingered at the edges of her mind years after they went their separate ways.

After what seemed like an eternity of traveling along the marshlands, the sightings of small cottages became more frequent. Anna stopped in front of a medium-sized yellow cottage. The garden at the front of the house was filled with life. Butterflies gathered around the milkweeds that blossomed in the late-spring, yellow daffodils on the other side swayed gently as the wind brushed through them. Behind, there was a dizzying array of peonies in various coral shades, basking under the warm sun. An old woman stood at the front of the door, grey wisps of hair covering the wrinkles around her eyes as she smiled warmly at her arriving guest. “You really didn’t need to come,” The old woman mumbled as she embraced her granddaughter, but Anna could hear a slight tinge of guilt in her voice,” I can take care of myself without any help.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Mom is worried sick, it’s better that I am here in case anything happens.” Anna took a good look at grandma while saying this, examining the broken arm hidden underneath a cast bandage. “Besides, it’s more relaxing to work at your house compared to the office.” She was excited for the change of environment ever since her manager gave her the approval to work from home to take care of grandma for the month. The office felt stifling and she was bent on getting as far away as she could from it. 

Grandma brought Anna into the house for her to unpack her belongings. It was a long day of driving and the weary traveler was starving. Instinctively, grandma brought out a tray of tea and scones as late afternoon snacks. They sat at a coffee table by the window, enjoying the view of the garden outside, chatting and catching up with each other’s lives.

“Chamomile tea, from the garden as well,” Grandma was explaining the process of gathering the tea leaves and grounding them for storage, ”Drinking it helps you to relieve stress and sleep well.” Anna picked up one of the buttermilk scones as she listened attentively to grandma giving her cooking class. Each scone was also prettily decorated with rose petals, and gave off a floral scent when she bit into them. Seemingly aware that Anna’s attention was starting to drift off towards the garden, grandma gave a small chuckle.

“When you were little, you used to play in the garden a lot, do you remember?”

Anna stared surprisingly at her and shook her head. Grandma smiled a little sadly and looked out the window.

“You were adorable, scurrying about the garden like a squirrel on a mission. Every time you stepped foot into the garden, you found new ways of entertaining yourself. One time, you gathered some wildflowers to make wreaths for your sister and I. Another time, you fingerpainted long green lines of little dots on the daffodils with your thumb and told me that they were hungry caterpillars. Your mother had a tough time removing the paint stains on your dress.”

Anna, amused by her younger self, remarked, “ I seemed to be more expressive when I was younger than I am now.” The two spent the rest of the day reminiscing about the past, laughing at ridiculous stories and preparing dinner together.

Weeks went by peacefully, or as peacefully as it could get. On some days, Anna was bombarded by calls from angry customers, some dissatisfied by the performance of the lawn mowers, others demanding refunds for the water hoses they purchased. Some were unreasonable, others were more understanding. But Anna tided through all of them patiently and courteously. Each time she picked up the phone, her stomach felt butterflies and she summed up all the courage she had to listen to the calls. Whenever she needed a breather, she looked out the window to see the flowers for a few seconds, before resuming her work. Grandma’s chamomile tea helped a lot too. Sometimes she would catch a glimpse of grandma watering the plants outside, or taking out the weeds with her one able hand.

One afternoon, dark clouds loomed over the old cottage. What seemed like a drizzle before soon became a downpour, with flashes of lightning creating terrifying silhouettes of trees bowing down to the strong winds outside. Thunder was deafening and Anna was mildly annoyed with it disrupting her quiet time to compile reports. Realising that it was completely unconducive to work in these circumstances, Anna got up to reach for her sweater. It was getting chilly from the thunderstorm, so she decided to switch on the heater and check on grandma, before proceeding to make some tea in the kitchen for the both of them. But hearing sounds of coughing and sneezing made her stop in her tracks, and she went straight to grandma’s room. Grandma was in bed, her eyes teary and nose red. She was sniffling while staring into the distance. Understanding that grandma caught a flu, Anna immediately turned the heater up and grabbed some medication from the cabinet. She bolted to the kitchen to boil some hot water before returning. Grandma looked at her with a grateful expression and tried telling her something through muffled sounds in between the coughing and sneezing.

When she finally calmed down and was audible, grandma asked again, “Anna, when the rain stops, could you be a dear and help me to take out the flattened peonies? They must not have survived the rainstorm. Help me to transfer the hydrangeas in the shed to this new empty space, they are thirsty plants and the wet soil is perfect for them.” Anna nodded and did as she was told. She salvaged the remaining peonies and turned them into a mini bouquet, transferring them into a vase to decorate the coffee table. She then moved the hydrangeas that grandma recently bought from the nursery from the shed to the garden. True enough, as the days passed, the hydrangeas in the garden thrived on the wet soil. 

They always say that the calm comes after the storm, but for Anna, the storm had not ended. Within the next few days, she was faced with an angry customer that called her every day, complaining about a product defect and threatening to report to her manager if things were not settled soon. The voice of that customer haunted her dreams and when she could not take the nightmares anymore, tears welled up in her eyes and she started sobbing. She didn’t feel that she was good at her job, she didn’t feel important at her job. She wanted to leave. Grandma, having seemed to have read her mind, approached her and went, ”What is holding you back from leaving?”

Anna answered, “Fear, fear to be myself, to pursue what I want to do, of what people would think of me if I do. All this time I was trying to be someone I wasn’t, and I struggled because of it, taking up a profession that I wasn’t good at. Now I’m left with nothing, and I feel empty.”

There was a short pause before grandma proceeded to bring the vase of peonies from the coffee table to Anna. She shuffled out of the house to bring back a few freshly culled hydrangeas. Anna looked at grandma with a confused expression.

“Sometimes, different phases in our lives bring different teachings and prepares us for something bigger. We should not diminish where we are at in our lives, as insignificant as it seems. When you were younger, I remember how timid you were when talking to people. You were so afraid to show your artworks to the family, because you felt that they might not like them. Look at you now, you have grown so much. Handling customers is not an easy job, but I’m so proud of you for stepping out of your comfort zone and being courageous. You have become such a strong, beautiful young lady, don’t ever let anyone feel like you are any less.”

Hearing these words, Anna felt her tears streaming down again like dewdrops on a leaf. Was it finally time to pursue her true passion for painting?

“And besides,” Grandma turned her attention to the vase of peonies, “Don’t you think the hydrangeas make a good addition to the peonies? They look so pretty together. Thank goodness for the storm.”