Garden Of Iris

I watch sweet Fred wakes up to the blooming of his flowers every morning at dawn. Sometimes he’ll forget to brush his teeth in the morning or take a shower but he’d never forget to check on his flowers. He’d feed them water with his dry, wrinkly hands, gave them food to eat when his stomach growled and prepared them for the sun while he made his way back inside his house. I know this since I live across the street from him. And that’s how far I plan to stay away from him. He doesn’t know me at all, yet, I’ve known him for many years. I’ve memorized the times he wakes up and sleeps, how only one side of his mouth lifts up when he smiles. It makes me feel warm to see him happy working hard in his garden every day. Well, almost every day.

I hate winter. This is the only season Fred doesn’t belong to. I have nothing to do so it makes me feel lonely. It’s as if winter was made to punish me. Except for winter, every season serves a purpose. During the summer, he’ll expand his front yard garden to his backyard, leaving me to my imagination. In Autumn, he’ll say his last goodbyes and prepare them for their real fall, winter. But spring, the amazing spring, is always the revival of it all after winter kills it. I look forward to the first of spring during a cold, empty winter. I mark it first thing on every calendar I get.

My favourite day of the year is the first day of spring. Something seemed different this morning, though. I felt something would happen today that would change my life forever. I decided this meant today should be the day I confess to Fred. But, a problem arises. How would I reveal this to Fred? I could walk up to his house, ring the doorbell, and be bold. I haven’t even fully spoken to him before. Just the casual “hi, good morning”. I would be crazy to speed at full force at him like that. I need to do it in a unique, quiet way. I could “accidentally” bump into him while he was on his daily walk, and act the role of an attractive stranger asking him out on a date. Who am I kidding? I’m not a good actor and I’m not getting any younger. He needs to know today. I don’t have the time for such a long term plan. Yet, I don’t have the courage for an instant one. I’ve got it! I could write him a letter. Yes, it's perfect! It's minimal, traditional and it'll be anonymous. Even if I sign my name to the letter, he wouldn't be able to match a face to it. Still, I want to make an everlasting impression on him. It can't be simply a letter. I coughed harshly. Lately, I’ve been coughing harder and more than usual. I made my way to the vacant room I turned into a pottery station. I played with clay when I was bored. I would make plant pots that I hoped one day I’d get to see in Fred's lawn. That was it! I would make a plant pot to put my letter in. I googled how to make cool designs on clay with the materials I had. I worked on this for hours, never satisfied with my creations. By now, my coughing turned into a hissy fit. It was around 2:00 pm already. Fred would be taking his daily walk at around 2:15 pm, sometime after grabbing a light snack. I watched Fred lock his front door and leave. That was my cue. With my pot in hand, I walked over to his front yard and planted my pot on his front porch. Quickly, I took a peek inside his house. I could just die. I was in heaven! Floral china in the dining room, a floral bookcase by the hallway. It was exactly how I imagined it all these years. By the corner of my eye, I saw a figure walking on the sidewalk in front of the house. Scared, I ran back across the street to mine. I laid down on the leather armchair in my dining room, facing a windowpane that showcased the views of my porch and Fred’s house even more. I sat there waiting for him to come back until I started coughing again. This time I felt a sharp pain with every cough I took. I closed my eyes. I felt a cold breeze brush in through the window. The vigorous air took everything in its past away including my breath. 

When Fred came back home from his daily walk, he noticed a new pot by his orchids. It’s base, with a porcelain-like glaze, had the most colourful design. It was covered in a bunch of small double rainbows. There was a flower planted in the pot full of soil with what seemed like an envelope. It was a very rare flower, a part of the “Bearded Iris” family, to Fred’s knowledge. However, this iris was a little different from the others. Primarily white, it had an indigo colour stitched to its ruffled edges. In all of his years, he had never witnessed a flower this captivating. On the exterior of the envelope, beside a stamp and his home address, there was a little message. In the area the sender's information was supposed to be written there was instead, “Like how the Goddess, Iris, used rainbows to carry her messages from Gods to humans, this letter is my rainbow to express a message written in our destiny to you”. What a lovely written phrase, Fred thought. Inside the envelope was a handwritten letter.

The letter read:

“Lay my soil flat

In a voluptuous vase

Build me a safe habitat

enough room for a chaise

Love gets transported from my roots 

To your very fingertips 

Like Nectar filled loot

Sent to you by a bees lips

I want you to treat me like ...

I’m the only flower in your garden

Truly yours, 

Iris”