The Purple

Mary tugged on the fabric of my skirt. I put the last dish on the drying rack, and dried my hands on a dish towel.

"Mommy, can we go back outside now?" she asked with a nearly-toothless grin. I nodded, putting on a bright smile. I stuck the towel down on the kitchen counter.

"Heck yes, Sunshine." I patted her butt, scooting her out the door and into the backyard. She giggled, running to the playground. I went to my spot on the blanket in the grass that I had laid out that morning. I picked up my book and set it in my lap. The squeaking swing set competed with the chirping birds and airplanes overhead.

The swing set squeaked with a steady rhythm as Mary swung back and forth, back and forth. I heard a buzz by my ear and instinctively tried to swat at the noise. Mary was singing gibberish quietly to herself, using the squeaks as a pulse for the beat. I smiled and laughed quietly.

There was a patch of purple tulips behind the swing set, swaying lightly back and forth in the wind, almost meeting the same pace that Mary was swinging. Back and forth. As if Mary herself was moving them.

When you're just a kid, barely out of your diapers, what do you see in a flower? Besides the color. Besides the smell. It's for the he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not's. It's a crown for a princess. It's a pretty, earthy thing. And, it's just like a kid to act on impulse.

Bugs crawl up stems and bumble bees sit in the pollen. It's nature's way of connecting. Connecting itself with human beings who pluck the flowers from the warm earth. Insects use the flower and humans harness the flower. See it, like it, act and take.

The sun beat down on me, I could feel it warming my hair and my skin.

"Mommy," Mary's voice called out suddenly. "Push! Please?" I smiled at her, putting my book down with a small sigh.

"'Kay, Sunshine." She let out another giggle as I stood up and made my way over to her. The grass tickled my bare feet. It was a cool, vibrant green matching Mary's eyes. Her white blond hair shone in the sun, making her glow like an angel. Heaven-sent.

The tulips bloomed every May for Mary's birthday. They had always been there, ever since we first moved into this house. Back when I was still pregnant with her. It felt like they were meant for her.

I pushed her back and forth on the swing, listening to the squeaks of the set and the giggles and hums from my daughter.

"Higher, higher!" I laughed.

"Higher! You're so brave, Sunshine!" I pushed a little harder and she squealed with delight, kicking her legs.

"Higher, higher!" I gasped.

"Oh, my, Mary, if I push you any higher, you might just fly right over the top." She laughed again.

"Yeah, Mommy! Higher!" I pushed a little harder, keeping her at a safe height. Her hair flew around her face as she went back and forth. She looked beautiful, like a fragile flower.

I pushed her, glancing at the world as she looked at the sky. She was probably making shapes out of the clouds. Painting a picture and writing a story.

"Mommy, can I have a flower?" I looked down to Mary, who was trying to tilt her head back to look at me. I smiled at her.

"You want a flower? Sure." She stopped pumping her legs and I let her slow down. She scrambled to the patch of purple behind the set, crouching down and putting her hands on her knees for balance.

"Which one?" she asked. I crouched down next to her.

"Anyone you want, baby girl. They're all for you." She looked at me with an open mouth and wide eyes.

"All of them?" I nodded with a smile.

"Mh-hm."

"Can I take them all?" I chuckled.

"One at a time, Sunshine." She turned back to the purple glow.

"Then... this one!" She plucked up a flower and held it to her face. The thick stem heavy in her hands. She grinned at me. "Look, Mommy!" She held it to my face, and I smelled it. It was a familiar, comforting scent. I gave her an enthusiastic smile.

"Wanna go put it in some water?" She nodded and started to skip to the house, waving her flower about. As she was flinging it around, I noticed it bent at the base of the flower, flopping over the stem rather sadly.

I followed her back to the house and found her in the kitchen. She had grabbed a chair and picked a cup out of the cupboards. She handed it to me.

"Can you fill it for me?" I nodded, filling it at the tap.

"And, we should put some sugar in it to help it last longer."

"Ohhhh," she mused. I handed her the cup after I put in a teaspoon of sugar. She plopped the flower into it the cup and ran into the dining room. Standing on her tip-toes, she put in near the center of the table, as far she could reach. She turned back to me. "Thank you, Mommy. Can I get another now?" I laughed lightly.

"No, Sunshine. That's enough for today. You can show that one to Daddy when he gets home." She nodded and then pointed outside.

"Can I still play?" I nodded once.

"Go ahead. I'll be right there." She giggled as she skipped out the door and back to the swings. I turned my attention to the sad little flower on the table, clashing with out table cloth.

I had taken it for granted.

The soft petals and fragrant scent. The vibrant color. The purple that seemed to understand your every wish with just the touch of your finger. The flower was so simple and so beautiful. It was so beautiful that I was nearly afraid to look at it. My eyes were not soft enough or kind enough. Not for the fragile little thing sitting in the green plastic cup half-filled with sugar water.

I didn't think before I told Mary to pick it up. She plucked it from the earth without a thought. She saw, she liked, she acted. Neither of us couldn't help it, you understand. It took me until we came inside and let it slump and bend over in that awful plastic cup to I realize that I had killed it. I let her remove it from its home to bring it into ours. Because it was pretty- no, because it was beautiful. Yes, beautiful. Because it reminded me of my daughter.

I sighed with that thought, not wanting to look at the flower anymore because of the embarrassment and guilt sweeping over me. I went back to my angel and the nature outside. Both beautiful and soft and ever-changing. I forgot about the flower and went back to my blanket and my book. I picked it up and started reading. The squeaking of the set, the laughter of my daughter, the airplanes up above, and the sun shining down kept me comfortable.