Marigold love

Hello Reader,

         Thank you so much for picking up 'Marigold Love'. I do hope that you equally enjoy reading and find love as much as I did in the writing of this story.
          I'm also immensely awarded with your love and appreciation showered in 'My Real Santas'. Thank you all so very much and please do continue to share, comment and vote.

Happy reading!!!

Sackful of love 💗
_butterfingers_again_

                     ************

       The lawn is filled with bright blooms of yellow and mahogany marigold flowers. Grandpa and grandma sits on the porch of a light orange-tinted and a mauve-coloured sky. The gentle light summer breeze plays with Grandma's wavy hair and the cricket equally begins to chirp. The cicadas on the mango tree begins to sing and a typical picture of a summer evening is created.

       Sitting on the porch with a cup of warm lemon drink every evening, and admiring the peaceful serene sky had become a habit for them ever since they got married. They believed in enjoying nature's gift after a day's busy event.

       I sits besides Grandma and she begins to say, "Natalie, remember no matter how busy you might be, always take a moment to enjoy beautiful evenings like this." A 7-year old me nodded and grinned widely.

                        ************

       It's another weekend and I take a bus to Olive town 172 kms away from the city. The town is one among the very few quite places in the state where the busy hustle-bustle of the city is neither seen nor heard, but is rather filled with a sense or warmth feeling that awakens your soul as soon as one enters the town and is welcomed by a 24-feet olive tree in which a signboard reads 'Welcome to Olive Town' and  that's where the name of the town originated being welcomed by a huge olive tree. It's summer again and is the best time to visit Grandpa and his garden which has always been very pleasant and  breath-taking.

       It was 5 minutes walk away from the bus stop to Grandpa's house. On reaching the small gate aligned by a row of small red mahogany and bright yellow marigold blooms, I saw Grandpa in his usual straw hat and his gardening tools. Grandma died a decade back and the house had lost her physical presence but the environment had never lost her presence. Even after she died, her garden was filled with bright flowers which leaves every passerby in awe. They knew that a secret gardener lied behind this beauty. And, of course it was Grandpa all along.

        I call out Grandpa and he waves at me grinning widely. I ran towards him and he says,"My little granddaughter grew so much more again" and I chuckled. After our endless coversation from the big happenings to the tiniest things, I insisted on helping him plant the second batch marigold saplings to which he refused but later agreed after much nagging.

        Growing up in this little cottage I had noticed that he always had marigold flowers growing every summer. This time my curiousity couldn't keep me. So, I asked him why he had tended only marigold flowers all this years, to which he replies,"It's your Grandma's favourite flower and I nurture them for it reminds me of our beautiful time spent together". He smiled to himself but i saw the twinkle in his eyes.

         Something had suddenly blurred my vision of Grandpa I knew it was tears. I quickly wiped it off knowing that those lines had been buried inside of him for all these years. I smiled along with him but neither of us speaking. Deep inside I remembered vividly all the images of my Grandparents of how they planted the seedlings and transplanted the saplings in the lawn and all the very small nostalgic moments.

         I equally began to analyse why his garden bloomed the best in the town even without Grandma's magical touch. Her absence had left a deep void within each one of us when we lost her warm physical presence forever. But the garden grew because Grandpa's love for Grandma continued to grow with the flowers.  It was always a heavenly feast for the eyes.

         After all the seedings were planted and my wrist watch struck 2, I decide to leave as the bus would leave the town soon. As I prepare myself to go back Grandpa hands me a small cloth woven bag and says, "Natalie, I'm handing you these seeds and one day after I'm gone I do hope that you'll bring me back it's saplings and fill my lawn with it" and he gives me a warm smile. I nod and replied, "Yes Grandpa I will" with the words half-choking me. I couldn't imagine losing him and gives him a tight hug as I placed the pouch of seeds gently into my bag.

                      ************

          It's another spring and I load the marigold saplings at the back of car. I lock the back and get buckled to travel 172 kms to Olive town. I turn the radio and it plays Robert Plant and Alison Krauss cover of "Your long journey " I constantly tap on the wheel of my car and sing along the chorus,
"Oh my darling, my darling
My heart breaks as you take
Your long journey
...
But we will meet in Heaven above... "

           It had been 7 years since Grandpa silently breathed his last on a cold winter's day. And today I'm finally here to fulfill a promise I made 7 years ago at the very ground I stood.  I jump out of the car and takes a view of the old cottage which stands majestically with a lawn which had already been ploughed and is ready for plantation.

          I later carefully planted each sapling supplying the same warm love and care that Grandpa had taught me to do so. After three hours the lawn is filled with freshly planted marigold saplings. I stood at the porch and a tear slips from the side of my eye.
I smile at myself, for I finally fulfilled my promise and the lawn is once again filled with Marigold Love.

   🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱

@butterfingers_again
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