Allison Wonderland
Mother Dearest
It was a warm Saturday afternoon, unusually warm for the middle of August, and Allison had used it to tend to the flowers had mother had slowly grown to neglect. The flowers that had been planted, the pink carnations settled near a replica of her father's tombstone, had slowly wilted away to a dark pink as the petals sagged sadly in the sun. She had watered them and watched as the rain slid down the petals and onto the stem, and watched as one, weighted down by the water, leaned safely against the edge of the tombstone.
Alice had slowly grown ill over the years which many doctors had claimed was helped by her weak heart. Though nobody had ever truly died of a broken heart, or at least none would ever state that as a true medical reason, some had said that with the loss of a husband, her body had grown weak and as much as her love for Allison would blossom over the years, it still gave way for Alice to slowly grow ill from the pain that she had felt losing her husband.
She was in the bedroom upstairs, right beside Allison's, and was peeking down into the garden as she pulled the weeds and settled the dirt back down, watering in spots that felt dry. She knew Allison did not enjoy gardening but her knack for it and her will to continue for her mother was what had kept her going out into the garden and tending to the plants Alice slowly neglected.
The garden was not big; it was just a box that pressed up against the house and only went three feet along the path. It was nestled against the back of the house, nestled against the two kitchen windows and split down the middle where the backyard path led out. It was a small garden pressed against a small house so quite easy to manage, even for somebody to claimed that they despised it.
As she stepped back into the house and kicked off her shoes, she made her way upstairs to give her mother a detailed report of every plants health. Alice had listened with interest but for she was not able to go to the garden, she was not entirely pleased to here of the gardens that bloomed without her help and the ones that sagged that she couldn't help.
"It's so..." Alice struggled to find the word, looking up at her daughter, "lonely without my flower garden, you know."
Allison had nodded her head, "I understand but your illness leaves you too weak to even stand, let alone function like a normal human being. It hurts to see you suffer here mother, but I cannot let you garden in such a weak state."
She sighed at her words, leaning back against the pillow and closing her eyes. "Please close the blinds dear," she said, only listening for Allison's footsteps as she made her way across the room, "I cannot bare to see a garden I cannot tend to. It only hurts me."
It was Allison's idea when she had headed over to the greenhouse in search of potted plants. It was her idea to stock pile so many flowers into the back of the greenhouse's delivery vehicle and have them all sent to her house. It was her idea to spend all the money she had earned at work for flowers and it was her idea, when her mother was knocked out on her medications, to cover the entire room with sweet smelling flowers and for her to pop open the bedroom window to let the cool yet warm air breeze through and flutter the curtains and her hair.
It did not aid in her mother's recovery for she was still said she couldn't enjoy the sun bathing her skin as she bent down to pick at the weeds and readjust the plants, but it was nice for her to always been around flowers, water them as she should, and watch as they grow and grow and grow.
Yet, it still did not aid in her recovery, for months later she had grown so violently ill that she was no longer allowed to remain within her home but at the medical house in town. She was to always be watched over by doctors and they had not allowed anything but faux flowers to be in her presence. "We have many patients who are indoors for they are sensitive to things that emerge from the outdoors. We cannot allow plants to have a presence here."
"Allison," her mother muttered from her bedside table, grasping her daughter's hand the moment she was close enough to reach, "The key you hold so close to your heart, the key to my heart, is indeed the key to my heart."
Allison had tilted her head at the words, confused, "Yes mother. I do believe that. I love you mother."
"No," she had said, louder, voice straining, "The key to my heart. There's... there's a safebox underneath my bed. It's locked but that key you hold will unlock it. It will give you the key to my heart, the past, and everything you ever truly wanted to know. I was to hold it from you, hold it long enough until you understand and I could explain, but I can't explain. You must learn for yourself."
She still felt confused, moving her free hand to hold at the necklace around her neck, "What are you saying mother?"
A little tear glistened in the corner of her eye, "My heart can no longer beat. My heart, it can no longer go."
And it was that day, with the whispered words of I love you that Alice had died holding her daughter's hand.
Alice had slowly grown ill over the years which many doctors had claimed was helped by her weak heart. Though nobody had ever truly died of a broken heart, or at least none would ever state that as a true medical reason, some had said that with the loss of a husband, her body had grown weak and as much as her love for Allison would blossom over the years, it still gave way for Alice to slowly grow ill from the pain that she had felt losing her husband.
She was in the bedroom upstairs, right beside Allison's, and was peeking down into the garden as she pulled the weeds and settled the dirt back down, watering in spots that felt dry. She knew Allison did not enjoy gardening but her knack for it and her will to continue for her mother was what had kept her going out into the garden and tending to the plants Alice slowly neglected.
The garden was not big; it was just a box that pressed up against the house and only went three feet along the path. It was nestled against the back of the house, nestled against the two kitchen windows and split down the middle where the backyard path led out. It was a small garden pressed against a small house so quite easy to manage, even for somebody to claimed that they despised it.
As she stepped back into the house and kicked off her shoes, she made her way upstairs to give her mother a detailed report of every plants health. Alice had listened with interest but for she was not able to go to the garden, she was not entirely pleased to here of the gardens that bloomed without her help and the ones that sagged that she couldn't help.
"It's so..." Alice struggled to find the word, looking up at her daughter, "lonely without my flower garden, you know."
Allison had nodded her head, "I understand but your illness leaves you too weak to even stand, let alone function like a normal human being. It hurts to see you suffer here mother, but I cannot let you garden in such a weak state."
She sighed at her words, leaning back against the pillow and closing her eyes. "Please close the blinds dear," she said, only listening for Allison's footsteps as she made her way across the room, "I cannot bare to see a garden I cannot tend to. It only hurts me."
It was Allison's idea when she had headed over to the greenhouse in search of potted plants. It was her idea to stock pile so many flowers into the back of the greenhouse's delivery vehicle and have them all sent to her house. It was her idea to spend all the money she had earned at work for flowers and it was her idea, when her mother was knocked out on her medications, to cover the entire room with sweet smelling flowers and for her to pop open the bedroom window to let the cool yet warm air breeze through and flutter the curtains and her hair.
It did not aid in her mother's recovery for she was still said she couldn't enjoy the sun bathing her skin as she bent down to pick at the weeds and readjust the plants, but it was nice for her to always been around flowers, water them as she should, and watch as they grow and grow and grow.
Yet, it still did not aid in her recovery, for months later she had grown so violently ill that she was no longer allowed to remain within her home but at the medical house in town. She was to always be watched over by doctors and they had not allowed anything but faux flowers to be in her presence. "We have many patients who are indoors for they are sensitive to things that emerge from the outdoors. We cannot allow plants to have a presence here."
"Allison," her mother muttered from her bedside table, grasping her daughter's hand the moment she was close enough to reach, "The key you hold so close to your heart, the key to my heart, is indeed the key to my heart."
Allison had tilted her head at the words, confused, "Yes mother. I do believe that. I love you mother."
"No," she had said, louder, voice straining, "The key to my heart. There's... there's a safebox underneath my bed. It's locked but that key you hold will unlock it. It will give you the key to my heart, the past, and everything you ever truly wanted to know. I was to hold it from you, hold it long enough until you understand and I could explain, but I can't explain. You must learn for yourself."
She still felt confused, moving her free hand to hold at the necklace around her neck, "What are you saying mother?"
A little tear glistened in the corner of her eye, "My heart can no longer beat. My heart, it can no longer go."
And it was that day, with the whispered words of I love you that Alice had died holding her daughter's hand.