The Flower Will Blossom

The summer air smelt of sweet strawberries, a gentle breeze brushing against the leaves within the trees causing them to rustle gently. The sun was in the midst of setting with vibrant burnt orange and bubblegum pink shades splashed across the sky smudging gradually to gentle pastel ripples and waves. Light clouds resembling the softness of cotton candy floating high above, were slowly fading. I witnessed this vision was Emily, a youthful girl nineteen years of age with an eldery woman, Rosie who sat on two deck chairs out the front of their soft lavender grey, cottage like, home. There they sat on a balcony framed by a wooden fence, painted an off white and embellished with a delicate design. Fresh green grass is neatly mown out the front of their house and rich green shrubs compliment the petite lawn. Leading up to the house is a thin, dark ash shaded walkway stencilled in a vintage stone pattern before a small series of matching off white wooden stairs invite entry upon the balcony; leading to a large front door. Warm sun rays peer through the various square glass windows scattered around the house. The windows are framed in a matching off white hue and the curtains drape on either side, pulled open to invite light into the house.

The elder woman, Rosie, sat peacefully on the deck chair absorbing the stunning scene of the sun setting before her. Her warm brown eyes remain fixed on the surroundings while Emily’s sea blue eyes are dazed, distracted by a world of her own. The light breeze tousles the young girl’s honeycomb locks causing loose strands of hair to fall upon her face; everytime she’d simply brush the hair away, tucking it behind her ear while the worried expression she wore would not falter. Emily’s intense blue eyes are lost in thought, her eyebrows pulled together from unease while her forehead is creased from anxiously tensing the muscles in her face. Her legs are pulled upon the edge of her chair cradled in her arms, hugging her body into a ball. The outline of her spine is prominent as she hunches her back to further curl up tightly so she is small, in what resembles a foetal position. Emily has her baby rose polished toes curled inwards while her chin rests upon her knees, she allows a sigh to escape her petite lips.

Rosie seemed too entranced in watching the sun’s farewell for the day to notice the young girl’s distress, the last of the sun’s light peers through the clouds in the distance. When the sun’s light is finally swallowed by the emerging darkness Rosie pulls her brown eyes away from the sky, readjusting herself in her seat to face her granddaughter. Rosie pulls at the hem of the flimsy apricot blouse she is wearing then tugs and rearranges her long black skirt before relaxing back into her chair. The elder woman’s warm cocoa eyes study her granddaughter; silently admiring the beauty of the young girl before sympathising over the stress she appears to have tangled herself in. Emily is gnawing at her nicely manicured fingernails that match her glossy baby rose toenails.

“What’s wrong, blossom?” her grandmother finally concerned has a loving, nurturing look on her face.

Emily tilts her head towards her grandmother, “Hmmm, nothing.” she barely whispers, her voice smooth and sweet.

Rosie fought a smile toying on her lips, creases forming around her eyes as they squinted from her cheekbones rising into a subtle smile. Lifting her small old wrinkled hand to the Emily’s arm, she shakes it playfully; Emily’s smooth and milky white skin contrasted with her grandmother’s crumpled skin. “Oh, come on Emily, you can’t fool your old girl. You’re using those teeth like a hacksaw to chomp at those nails of yours! Talk to your Grandmother” her voice gentle.

Emily couldn’t help but shoot her grandmother a small smile, her eyes creasing with wrinkles while she smiles similarly to her grandmother’s. Unwrapping her arms, Emily released her long, slender legs from hugging her chest letting them stretch out in front of her. Tugging at the loose threads of the frayed denim shorts she wore Emily now faced an internal battle with herself- whether to share her troubles with her grandmother. Eventually exhaling stale air and taking a small sigh in defeat, she flicks her dazzling blue eyes away from the loose threads distracting her to look at her grandmother. Emily’s face softens as she relaxes the muscles in her face upon realisation how absurd she previously must’ve appeared to her grandmother, cradling herself and chewing viciously at her nails.

“It’s just, things between Adam and I have been…” she contemplates the right choice of wording before finishing, “’strange’ lately…” she confesses while absorbing her grandmother’s appearance and more importantly, her initial reaction to the information shared. Grandma Rosie’s lips are pursed together to form a straight line and her brown eyes have immediately fallen to the ground breaking direct eye contact with Emily’s. Emily could see the subtle bitterness twisted within her grandmother’s face, the sourness towards Adam was one Emily never readily understood.

Quickly spilling from Emily’s mouth, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Her words rushed, like water cooling off and putting out her Grandmother’s flame of growing heated frustration. At that moment she stared at her Grandmother taking notice of finer details she adores but didn’t always observe, the volume and waves Rosie’s snow white hair was always neatly permed in, the cute button nose that crinkles similarly to Emily’s when they find themselves in a fit of hysterical laughter, the small, gold Saint Christopher chain that hangs from her neck, and the softness in her voice whenever she addresses Emily as ‘blossom’.

Breaking the previous, slightly tense moment of silence, Rosie offers confidence, “Things will always work themselves out, Emily” She then easily reaches for the deck of cigarettes and florescent green lighter that lay rested atop the small table setting between them. Rosie flicks open the lid of the deck, plucking a cigarette from it’s packet before settling the deck back on the table. She pinches the cigarette with her lips while flicking the lighter to ignite a brighter, bolder orange flame than her apricot blouse. Hovering the flame over the cigarette clamped between her lips she uses her spare hand to direct the flame into igniting her smoke. Rosie fought the light summer breeze with her spare hand, the skin wrinkly and worn, acting as a shield to protect the flame. Eventually the cigarette lit, the elderly woman pulled the lighter away from the cigarette and places it besides the unsmoked deck of cigarettes before inhaling a deep drag of nicotine.

Emily’s face reflects doubt and disbelief in her grandmother’s words, the troublesome look returning to her face. An uneasiness and unsettling feeling sits in her stomach overpowering her belief in her Grandmother’s words. As Rosie exhales a puff of smoke she adds, “No need to worry, Blossom. Every problem in life is to some extent fixable…Things can change, except death so live passionately my dear.” Rosie stole a breath before vocalising her thoughts of praise, “You’re a good girl, you know that?” pride for her granddaughter evident in her small smile.

Scrunching her face, Emily cringes at her grandmother with a grin, “You make that sound lame, Gran!”

Rosie laughed,“Being a good girl is not lame, blossom. I talk from experience, I’ve been to the dark side and back and I’ve learned that you only get what you give…so expect the best my dear.”

The words her Grandmother spoke were truth, Emily hasn’t ever heard the full story about her Grandmother Rosie’s, past but knew enough to know her Grandmother had written herself a dark, unspeakable history. It wasn’t until her Grandfather appeared in the picture that Rosie made a self revolution deciding to take control of her once chaotic life.

Emily always wonders about Rosie’s unspoken history always curious and peculiar, never being able to imagine Rosie to be anything else but the sweet, old, wise and innocent woman she is today. The history of her grandmother would probably always remain a mystery. Emily had to accept, the only person that could give her truthful answers is her Grandmother, who was not willing to volunteer such information.

While taking a deep drag of nicotine, Rosie shared her thoughts, thinking aloud, “I have to start preparing dinner after this.” she shook the cigarette in her hand before flicking the ashes that had built up around the butt of it into the crystal glass ash tray. “How do you feel about my good old pasta dish?”

All curiosity melted away, a smile of delight gracing Emily’s face at the thoughts of her Grandmother’s classic pasta dish. It’s a speciality of Rosie’s, an original recipe no other pasta dish seemed to compete with. Emily’s stomach couldn’t help but growl and her mouth watered as thoughts of the delicious pasta dish tortured her stomach and senses. Before Emily could agree to pasta her Grandmother laughed, “I’ll take it that you’re satisfied with pasta for dinner tonight, judging by that goofy grin of yours!” Emily nodded quickly while giggling at how hypnotic food is on her, hunger pangs already forming in her stomach at the mere thought of food.

“That’s made you happy hasn’t it?!” Her Grandmother shook her head with a wide grin spread across her face, “You’re just like your Grandfather and Mother, the way to your heart is through your stomach.” She now placed the half burnt cigarette to her lips inhaling the smoke, the end of the cigarette a glowing orange ember.

“I can’t help it!” Emily defended herself with a compliment to Rosie’s cooking, “It’s just so damn good.”

Rosie took Emily’s hand in hers. “Thanks blossom,” she released Emily’s hand to take another drag of her cigarette. “Do you know if your sister will be joining us for dinner?” Emily recognised a glimmer of hope in her voice.

“No sorry, Gran. I haven’t heard from Jasmine in a while…” Guilt washing over her for letting Rosie down, she hated to see the way Rosie’s whole face fell with disappointment. Emily knew Rosie adores Jasmine’s and her company, and it is such a simple wish, yet Jasmine could barely manage to grant her Grandmother twenty minutes.

Shaking off her melancholy, the elder woman straightened her posture to sit upright, while recomposing her face to wear the same delighted expression, “Never mind, not to worry!” Rosie brushed off her disappointment with a cheery and peachy tone. She pressed the cigarette back to her lips inhaling another deep drag of smoke before exhaling, the smoke gushing out to pollute the crisp summer air.

Emily’s face cringed in repugnance as the putrid smell invades her nostrils; the smoke is thick, making breathing uncomfortable. Her lungs constrict making her feel suffocated as they refuse to inhale air less frequently to avoid the filthy smoke. Absurd as it sounds; Emily could never adjust and tolerate the smell of cigarette smoke despite being raised around the distinct scent of nicotine… it has never appealed to her.

“Arghh Gran, when are you going to give up those disgusting coffin sticks? It’s a filthy hab-“” Emily began to complain, voicing dislike for her Grandmother’s smoking addiction.

Her Grandmother cut her off mid sentence before Emily’s irritation could heighten and her complaint could be elaborated on, “I know.” the older woman said in a stern voice signalling she has heard the rants all before and has knowledge of the consequences of her habit.

With that Emily dropped the subject knowing a passionate ramble on the risks of smoking would not miraculously stop her Grandmother Rosie from lighting up again, the topic had been dismissed. Emily stood up from her deck chair, leaning over and planting a gentle kiss on her Grandmother’s forehead before walking inside the house to help prepare dinner. Her Grandmother finished the cigarette, pushing the smoked butt into the ashtray, before pushing herself off the chair to follow her Granddaughter into the house.