Taint, Time and Tangents✔️

EXTRA 10. The Dandelion

∞ONE∞

Being a flower for almost forty years was never an issue for me. I had been a barnacle on a whale's skin for a decade - just enjoying the ocean's current while hitchhiking - and it was the best of bests. I guess I really preferred being on a standstill rather than be a pretend human and engaged into petty fights. Maybe age was also taking a toll on me - making me want to just lounge and sip coffee on the patio.

I had been a flower four times throughout my thousand lives - a bougainvillea, a tulip, a sunflower and now a dandelion.

This was the most entertaining so far - growing from a yellow- petaled flower to a grandpa with white hair just to end being bald as the wind pulled off my hair. It has been that cycle for years now but I still loved it.... especially since I was able to watch over them.

Ezekiel and Nine.

It must be fate that I was in this cliff- in their cliff - which witnessed them all - how they met, grew as friends, argue and cry. I watched Ezekiel grew into a very fine man, from the grouchy to a very caring one and Nine from a cute, mischievous girl to a very selfless lady. I was there when they were sleeping, when they lay side by side and watched the stars. I was there whenever Nine fell and Ezekiel would always immediately be at her side. I was there when his hands grew from little chubby fingers to bigger, dependable hands - from pushing Nine to grabbing her cheeks and wiping her tears. I was there whenever he tied her hair, straightened her robes and watched her eat. I was there for years watching Ezekiel fell deeper and deeper each and every day for Nine. I was there from the day they watched a comet until the day I saw him prepared a simple dinner which was left cold and spoiled.

And five years has passed since then before one of them had set foot on this cliff.

It was Ezekiel.

He was recovering from his sickness that time, was on rehabilitation for years - on chronic treatment for substance abuse and suicidal ideations. Nonetheless, I saw him every year lighting a candle and singing happy birthday to Nine, telling her stories, wishing her every beautiful things in life... imagining she was there, listening.

But I was there and watched him talking to no one. Nine was never there.

For the succeeding years, I watched him at his lowest, gradually getting up until he was able to stand on his feet, learning and coping.

Every time he was here, he would stay for a couple of hours and watch the stars. He would spend hours at the cliff even though he had already spent days on her dorm room, spent months on his parents' home and spent every hours of his day thinking of Nine.

However, on the tenth year, I thought he would never come again.

For he had seen both of them. His past and maybe... his future.

But her birthday came and there he was again on the cliff. He was wearing a long winter jacket, its thickness covering the double layers of clothes inside, and a black wool scarf donned his neck, covering his mouth fully.

He was coughing and shivering from the heights of fever but he still went here.

And I was never been this happy.

He went and cleaned the table and the chair and picked up dried leaves. Even with a runny rose and dry cough, he was still able to clean. When he had settled down, he placed a handmade muffin - Nine's favorite and lighted up a small candle.

He then sang a very off-tune birthday song with a nasal voice and in the middle of coughing and sneezing.

And again, I was the only one listening.