Why can’t every day be like this? She smiles and takes my hand.
Every day can’t be like this, dear, because then it wouldn’t be as special.
Her skin feels just like it always did. Soft and wrinkled, but silky to the touch.
And her eyes are still pale blue.
Why did you have to leave? A cloud briefly blots out the sun.
It was simply my time. I didn’t want to, she says.
We are quiet for a while.
Listening to the gentle breeze rustling through the
lilac buds in the leafy alcove outside the house.
I slowly tell her what’s happened in my life,
all the ups and downs,
the successes and the failures,
the good and the bad.
How I miss her so very much, still!
She sits there with her wrinkled face lifted towards the sun and
her white, short, curly hair messed up from weather and wind.
She doesn’t judge, just listens – though I’m sure she’d have plenty to say.
Lovingly. She really doesn’t say much. She doesn’t need to.
It is I who need this moment.
This beautiful spring day in the horse shoe shaped alcove of lilac bushes outside my grandparents’ house.
In my mind’s eye it still looks the same.
She still looks the same after almost 30 years…
The garden is still immaculate from all the hours of backbreaking work she puts in.
The mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked cinnamon buns wafts out the kitchen window. A brief moment of peace in her hectic day. A coffee cup on the table.
Perhaps the apple trees are blossoming and she’s already started planting the vegetables…
It really doesn’t much matter.
Nothing much really matters.
The perfect spring moment… Just sitting silently, with her, in my childhood paradise…
Herotomost over at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads asked us to imagine our perfect spring moment for … An Old Man’s Fancy today. To sit in peace and imagine what that moment would be, where it would be, how it would be – and possibly with whom it would be. In an instant I was transported from my flat in windy and grey Stockholm to my grandparents’ house, a lovely and warm spring day under blue skies and my grandmother drinking coffee. She passed away in 1988 when I was just 16. I so wish I could have a day with her now, as an adult. That I could hug her again and tell her I love her.