Post by Sébastien Fleury on Jan 16, 2011 23:20:34 GMT -5
“Bastien! It’s time to come eat!”
I could hear mother’s voice across the vegetable garden, but I didn’t move a muscle. “Later, mother, I’m fine,” I answered, not looking up from the spot of dirt in front of where I sat cross-legged.
I could hear the light tread of my mother’s steps as she came closer. “Not later, it will be cold then. I know you haven’t eaten since dinner last night. Come in and eat,” she said, when she stopped next to me.
“I can’t mother, it’s about to bloom,” I answered, my voice soft now that she was near.
Her skirts rustled as she knelt in the dirt beside me. “Are you certain?” she asked, then chuckled. “Of course you are.”
All thoughts of food fled as we waited for the bud before us to open. Then, shyly, the first petals began to draw away from the rest of the bud. Silence descended around us as we watched, breathless, as the flower decided to show its heart to the world. Pink, the match to a summer sunrise, fading to pure white at the tips and petals nearly as long as my finger.
“Oh Bastien, it’s beautiful,” mother whispered. “Just like you said it would be.”
I had been working for over a year to refine this variety of lily; I had just known this one would be it.
“It’s for you,” I said, smiling at her. “For your natal.” I saw tears well in her eyes and her arms wrapped around me. I knew lilies were her favorite, and that pink was the color she loved more than any other.
“My sweet boy,” she said, caressing my hair after she had sat back. “Thank you, it’s perfect.”
“You’re welcome mother,” I said, then kissed her cheek. We both rose and headed into the house to eat.
I could hear mother’s voice across the vegetable garden, but I didn’t move a muscle. “Later, mother, I’m fine,” I answered, not looking up from the spot of dirt in front of where I sat cross-legged.
I could hear the light tread of my mother’s steps as she came closer. “Not later, it will be cold then. I know you haven’t eaten since dinner last night. Come in and eat,” she said, when she stopped next to me.
“I can’t mother, it’s about to bloom,” I answered, my voice soft now that she was near.
Her skirts rustled as she knelt in the dirt beside me. “Are you certain?” she asked, then chuckled. “Of course you are.”
All thoughts of food fled as we waited for the bud before us to open. Then, shyly, the first petals began to draw away from the rest of the bud. Silence descended around us as we watched, breathless, as the flower decided to show its heart to the world. Pink, the match to a summer sunrise, fading to pure white at the tips and petals nearly as long as my finger.
“Oh Bastien, it’s beautiful,” mother whispered. “Just like you said it would be.”
I had been working for over a year to refine this variety of lily; I had just known this one would be it.
“It’s for you,” I said, smiling at her. “For your natal.” I saw tears well in her eyes and her arms wrapped around me. I knew lilies were her favorite, and that pink was the color she loved more than any other.
“My sweet boy,” she said, caressing my hair after she had sat back. “Thank you, it’s perfect.”
“You’re welcome mother,” I said, then kissed her cheek. We both rose and headed into the house to eat.