In the Land of Coffee and Sunflowers

On the day of her seventeenth birthday, Mildred Tuna vanished from the Rose Kingdom to become a rose on Earth. Charles Tuna thought his daughter too young to go to Earth to become a rose, but that’s the way things were going in the Rose Kingdom. Mildred’s mother Melinda Tuna was twenty-one the first time she went, and at the time that was young. She became a pink rose in the garden of an eighty-seven year old widower in Delaware. Charles was twenty-five his first time. He had been a wild white rose in Auckland, New Zealand. Most inhabitants of the Rose Kingdom were selected at least once in their lifetime to go to Earth and become a rose. Mildred Tuna received her selection notice by mail — the most usual way — and although she had not yet finished her last year of high school, she would go become a rose.

Her friends were green with envy. To be selected, at such an age no less. They would get their chance too, no doubt. But to go now. To drink real water, feel dew droplets on her petals. To grow in a garden somewhere. Deep like a rose, tall like a rose. Picked by some lover and given as a gift; live her last days in sunlight on a window sill then come back to the Rose Kingdom and gush to her friends about everything. That’s what Mildred would do. Somewhere in southern Indiana, in the garden of Missus Betty Menasian, a red rose was getting ready to bloom.

It was late September in southern Indiana. Paul Glass turned up the orange collar on his letterman jacket against the cold and blew a puff of breath into the air before he set out along the sidewalk, brown backpack hanging from one shoulder.

“Good morning, Mr. Glass,” said a man in a light blue Chevrolet that had come up from behind.

“Oh, good morning, Mr. Franklin,” said Paul.

“Don’t be late to my second period gym class. Dodegball today.”

“Sure, Mr. Franklin. See you then. Hey, new wheels?”

“1966,” he said proudly.

“Nice.” Paul had always wondered how cars could come out a year ahead. Nineteen sixty-six was still a few months off, and here was Mr. Franklin driving around in a snazzy new automobile. Mr. Franklin’s car was from the Future.

When he passed by Mrs. Menasian’s house there was Mrs. Menasian on the front porch drinking her morning coffee as usual. Wrapped up in an afghan blanket on the swinging bench. And on the front lawn, in a bush, there was that tall, single, lovely red rose. It had been there since the summer.

“Good morning, Mrs. Menasian.”

“Good morning, Paul.”

He had been meaning to ask Mrs. Menasian about the flower. Would she pick it? If it was all the same to her, Paul would like to give her nickel for it, heck, a dime, if she would let him have it. He thought it would be a nice thing to give to Stacey before homecoming. She had already said yes to going with him, but he thought he should bring a rose. First frost would be there soon anyway and he thought it a shame not to give the rose as a gift. As if by magic, she could sense what Paul wanted and it made Mildred, the rose, blush. Paul checked his watch. He would ask Mrs. Menasian tomorrow.

When tomorrow came, Mrs. Menasian wasn’t sitting on the porch. Paul eyed the rose. Pure and true. Deep like a rose. Tall like a rose. I’ll leave Mrs. Menasian a whole quarter for it, he thought. Besides, the frost will be here soon. And he removed a Swiss army knife from his jacket pocket. He held the blade to the bottom of the stem but before he could make the cut, Mrs. Menasian appeared. Paul did not see from where. She was not there, and then she was, as if she had materialized out of thin air.

“Can I help you with something?”

Paul dropped the knife and jumped.

“Mrs. Menasian! I…I was just…”

“You were just…”

“The rose…”

“Why don’t you come in and steal all my china and pewter candlesticks while you’re at it?” Paul’s face became deeply red.

“I’m sorry. I meant to leave you a quarter for it. The frost is coming.”

“You mean to give the rose to that girl I’ve seen you walking with. What’s her name?”

“Stacey.”

“To Stacey, yes.”

“Yes, ma’am. Planning to take her to homecoming. I thought it a shame not to give such a beautiful rose as a gift. But you weren’t on your porch today, and I…”

“Nevermind,” said Mrs. Menasian. “Your quarter won’t be necessary.” Mrs. Mensasian picked up the knife from the ground and cut the flower. Mildred smiled.

“I’ll bring you a vase.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Menasian. And sorry, again.”

“Nevermind.” She returned with a thin crystal vase. “You have a good time at homecoming, and make sure you all beat the Cowboys, Mr. Quarterback.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

On the night of the Seymour High School homecoming dance, Paul rang Stacey’s doorbell wearing a black tuxedo with a white shirt and purple tie.

“Good evening, Mr. Glass. My, aren’t you looking snazzy! I’ll get Stacey. Honey!”

Stacey was in a gem studded white dress, her blond hair in curls. Paul handed her the rose.

“I took this from Mrs. Menasian’s garden.”

“You did not!” Said Stacey.

“Don’t worry, she gave it to me.”

The Seymour Owls beat the Cowboys 17 to 10, with Paul throwing the game-winning touchdown in the last thirty seconds. Paul and Stacey danced to You Were on my Mind while white string lights glowed around them and they kissed.

After being a wild white rose in New Zealand, Mildred’s father Charles Tuna was a pink rose in Cambridge, Massachusetts. During his second tour of duty, so to speak, he was picked by the poet EE Cummings and according to Rose Kingdom legend, it was Charles the rose that inspired the poet to write his poem if there are any heavens. While Mildred was away, Mr. Tuna fell ill and suddenly passed away. The King and Queen of the Rose Kingdom held a memorial service for him in the Royal Garden. The whole kingdom came. An attaché from the Sunflower Kingdom even crossed over the northwest ridge to come. And the duke of the Coffee Kingdom also came to pay his respect.

Mildred Tuna, the rose, sat on the window sill in Stacey’s bedroom until the last of her petals fell off and she became dark and brittle.

At the memorial, Peter Tuna read from the poem if there are any heavens.

my father will be (deep like a rose

tall like a rose)

standing nearby

…with eyes that are really petals and see

with the face of a poet really which

is a flower

        … (suddenly in sunlight

he will bow,

& the whole garden will bow)

A ray of sunlight came over the garden suddenly. And after reading the poem, Peter bowed, and the whole garden bowed.