Companions

The marigold is a companion plant that is said to prevent insect pests from attacking some of the home vegetable plants in a garden. The flower also has magic in it if one takes the time to be present with it.

The nurse rolled him out into the garden in his wheel chair so that he could sit among his favorite squash and melons He had taken great pride in having the best squash and melons, never sharing that the marigolds in the garden were the secret that protected his garden. His daughter Mandy loved when he would hand fertilize the squash, then pick the male blossoms and take them into the kitchen to make stuffed squash blossoms for a treat. She would giggle with joy when he made them stuffed with sweets for her to enjoy. Quickly deep fried in the oil on the stove. She would dance around him with her green eyes sparkling. How much he missed those days.

Mandy was his life after his wife had died suddenly. An only child she would go on walks with him and ask him how the color of his flowers got into the sky when the sunset. He’d tell her that on special days, the clouds got dressed up so that they could dance with the sun while the stars were coming out. He would tell her that the flowers were magic and his special French marigolds kept him young and spry so that he would be with her forever and keep her safe and as night took the sky they would each pick and eat one on their way into the house to go to bed.

He couldn’t remember how many years it had been since she left. He made a promise that he would keep the garden going when she left so that when she came home they could dance together in it. Sometimes he’d ask the nurse how long it had been since she had left as he was rolled into the garden. Repeatedly the nurse would say that Mandy had been gone for 67 years, and sometimes stay and help him tend the garden. He hadn’t made the magic stuffed squash blossoms, with a special cheese and marigold blossoms since she had left. Some nights he’d cry with loneliness for her, wanting to see the sparkle in her eyes. 67 years….she’d be 73 now. Sometimes that frightened him. He was worried what would happen to his garden, afraid the magic wouldn’t be there when she got back home.

Mandy had her mother’s eyes. Deep, green, filled with joy and wonder. He would watch her play in the yard, sometimes sneaking a French Marigold to eat and laugh when he would catch her. She loved the magic, and they would sit in the yard, her on his lap as he told her stories and drew pictures for her. He was her world, her safety.

Mandy would help him make salads to go with dinner, fresh picked ingredients from the garden. She’d pick the carrots with him and grate them into the salad. Red, yellow and orange tomatoes would follow with chopped red onion and sliced radishes. Mandy remembered those special days in the kitchen, in the garden with her father. She missed sharing those experiences with him in the garden. She missed the stuffed squash blossoms, hearty ones filled with meat and cheese, sweet ones filled with cream cheese and raspberries or blackberries from the woods behind the house.

Mandy had been far to busy with her work. She had lost the stories he told her as she went about her days. It seemed she could not tell one day from another. Yet, she never complained and did the work she was told to do. Day after day, the same work, the same magic. In time, she began to forget more and more pieces of her into the work. She forgot the squash blossoms filled with sweets. Picking the greens and the rest of the salad mixings.

Eventually the marigolds became a strange variegated blend from splotchy yellows to splotching almost red, to different oranges. They ceased to be flowers. She lost track of time. She lost the feeling of wanting to find her way back home, eventually forgetting about him, the garden, the stories, the dancing. She forgot that magic ever existed. Her world slowly faded into greyness. There was little contrast.

He was sitting in his wheelchair, in the garden, watching the magic of the marigolds start to color the sky and clouds to the west. He heard himself saying that sometimes the magic of the flowers got the clouds to dress up and dance. Then started to cry when he realized that Mandy wasn’t there to hear the stories and witness the magic. Slumping deeper into his chair. Mandy walked through the marigolds and across the garden, knelt before her father, lifting his face into her hands. Whispering that it was time to go as she wiped his tears. He rose from his chair lifted his daughter into his arms and said, “I missed you baby girl, why were you gone so long? The park isn’t that far away.”

“Daddy, it’s time to go”

He set his daughter down, took her tiny hand in his as they danced into the magic sunset colored by the magic of his flowers. She laughed as she nibbled a sweet squash blossom, her green eyes sparkling. He laughed too, knowing that she would never be far from him, telling her that the marigolds were the most magical of all his flowers.