Salix Discolor
From my chair in the living room, I watched her half-fill the vase. She thought I was asleep. I had become an expert at watching through eyelids at half-staff. Nobody paid me much attention any longer. Frail body — frail mind is what they seemed to think. Not her though, not Andi — Andi always took time to stop and ask about my day, my dreams, or the book I’ve been reading.
She reached into the drawer, her hand shuffling through the odds and ends. Good girl — she chose the scissors with the blue handle. I knew from experience, it had the sharpest blades of the available choices. Yes, they occasionally still allowed me the joy of trying to cut intricate snowflakes in winter and paper flowers in spring. When you hover somewhere between nine and ten decades of age, you have to get your thrills where you can find them. Often it is amongst the memories of days gone by. Oh, how I loved to create works of art from scraps of paper — then and now.
Well, I knew what Andi was up to and it wasn’t paper crafts. She stopped at the patio door and slipped into those strange looking rubber shoes with the holes on top. Did you know they sell charms to fit in those holes? Andi’s had Snow White, a tulip and an orange and white striped fish. What is this world coming to? Everybody is selling something to somebody — always.
Andi slid the door open, then closed, so gently — always considerate. I felt a little bad about playing possum while watching her.
Her first stop was the daffodils with the orange centers. I watched through the glass as she cut two that had just started to open — ever so slightly. This girl knew what she was doing.
Next, she walked to the lilac bush, the one with deep purple flowers. She held the daffodils up close and I could see she was pleased with the combination. Snip, snip, snip. Good thing she took the sharp scissors. The woody stems of the lilacs could sometimes be a real bugger to cut through.
And then, she disappeared from view, but I knew where she went. That lovely bouquet she was assembling needed a touch of green. She knew it as well as I did. Sure enough, when she emerged from the hedge, I could see the lime green of the newly sprouting American pussy willow. Andi had an eye for color and shape all right. I wondered where she got it from.
She quietly slid the door open and shut, slipped off those ugly shoes and breezed by — wafting the scent of Lauren perfume. It’d been her favorite since she was a teen. How did I know that?
I continued my performance of sleeping old man while she trimmed stems and arranged the vase. When she approached the oval, cherry wood table in front of my chair, I could keep quiet no longer.
“Andi, you did use tepid water? You don’t want to shock the poor flowers,” I said.
“Grandad! I thought you were asleep. I meant for these to be a surprise. Were you spying on me?” Andi asked.
“Only for your whole life,” I replied with a wink.
