Cut Flowers

Preamble: In 1975 we bought our first house. It was built by my father-in-law in a new subdivision he was developing in Pasadena. His house was right down the street and around the corner from ours. About three months after occupying our new home. A couple knocked on our door. Larry and Terri. Wanted to know if we’d be interested in a civic club. Yes. We got involved. Their youngest and our oldest ended up attending school together from elementary to high school.

Amble: I don’t think this is a thing, but it’s the back end of preamble, so I’m going with it. Flash forward 45 years. They now live just down the road on 281 toward Blanco and I live in Johnson City. We’re ten minutes apart. The other day when I held a memorial service for my late wife, Terri came to help and brought fresh cut flowers from the potted plants on her porch, which is where this was going to begin with. I finally changed them out yesterday with Marigolds from my garden.

Post-amble: Again, probably not a thing, but… I got to thinking how much I liked those cut flowers and it seemed to dovetail nicely with my sudden desire to fry everything for dinner and have fun doing it. I think I’ve discovered what’s going on. For the last year, since my wife’s passing, I’ve felt buffeted and untethered. But I think that’s about to change because of those little proactive efforts at living. I think now, rather than falling through space, I’m actually learning to fly a bit. Feels like that might be a good thing.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale