|
Ms. Clara in 2B
by Debbie Sickler You have a lovely garden maam. Been meaning to tell you so for quite some time now. The old womans voice startled me as I jabbed my key into the lock of my front door. I had grown accustomed to viewing the silent figure by the door of 2B, as a piece of furniture. Nothing more. I beg your pardon? I pulled Jasons cap down below his ears and fussed with the collar of Brians polo shirt. I dont have a garden. The patios here are too small for that. And forgive me for saying so, but if I were to have a garden, how would you know its lovely? I always thought you were blind. There are all sorts of gardens maam. All sorts. My neighbor sat rocking slowly in her wooden chair as she spoke her riddles. I used to have me a wonderful garden, I did. So beautiful. Shoulda spent me some more time enjoying it while I had it. Drunk driver put an end to it though. Put an end to my eyes too. Well, Im sorry for your loss. Maybe one day youll plant another? I was running late to get Jay to school and was too short on patience to figure out the ramblings of an eighty-year-old blind woman with imaginary gardens. My time for gardening has come and gone. There wont be any more flowers springing up for this old soul. Just make sure you enjoy yours while it lasts. The blooms fade so quickly sometimes. So quickly. Yes, well, I really must be going. I tried to scoot the boys past her door and down the hall. I had almost made it to the elevator when she called out. The names Clara Johnson. Ms. Claras fine. You have a lovely day and take care of that garden now. She continued rocking and staring off into the distance with eyes as clouded as her thinking seemed. I pushed the down button a few extra times without saying another word. When we returned that afternoon, I was in a foul mood; Brians diaper had leaked all over me. I hardly noticed Ms. Clara with all the scolding I was busy doing. Bri, when are you ever going to learn to use the potty? The overstuffed diaper was creating an awful stench and I couldnt wait to get inside. Sounds as though youve got your hands full. The crackle of her voice matched the creaking of her rocker perfectly. I hardly glanced up as I dug around for my keys, which had managed to settle to the bottom of my purse already. Oh. Its this stupid diaper. It leaked all over my new blouse. You have to expect a little dirt if you want to have a garden. Dirt I wouldnt mind. Its this fertilizer thats getting to me. I managed a smile at my own cleverness. If this kid would just stop being so dense and catch on. I think he takes after his father. He wasnt too bright either. Now how on earth will your buds blossom if you pelt them with pebbles like that? A wry smile spread across Ms. Caras wrinkled face. I had to stop and think about that one for a minute. Each one is different. Some will thrive in the bright sun, while others would simply wilt. Some need constant pruning so they wont snap beneath their own weight. Others are meant to grow free and confident. It is up to the gardener to recognize their seedlings and apply the proper care. I still wasnt sure Ms. Clara was all there, but she was starting to make sense. I looked down at my little garden as she called it. They really were great kids and it had been awhile since Id stopped to admire them. Keys finally retrieved from my bag, I turned to unlock the door. Have a good evenin maam. I paused and looked back across the hall at apartment 2B. My names Meg. You have a good night too Ms. Clara. I herded the boys through the narrow doorway with a gentle, guiding hand. Remembering the advice to enjoy my garden while it lasted, I inhaled deeply. Then I remembered Bris current potty emergency and regretted it. I rushed him to his changing table, but not without offering up a silent prayer for my wonderful garden, fertilizer and all. (c) 2006 Debbie Sickler Debbie Sickler, a mother of three boys, began writing as a hobby in 2005. She has since won several awards and been published both on line and in print. She is currently working on a Christian fantasy screenplay. Contact her at: [email protected] Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |