Petals of Marigold

I walk the same route to work everyday. I can’t take any surprises, turn any new corners, or see any new sights, because the one thing I hate the most is flashbacks. MAN, do I hate flashbacks; when the mind takes you back based on a certain smell, location, or even feeling. For a lonely woman, flashbacks give you another reason to cry, because once you leave your imaginary world, you are yet again, alone. Today, however, the soft gentle breeze put my mind at ease only for a moment in time, as I see yellow petals beside my feet. Why did those yellow pedals have to land there? Now, my thoughts become like a train going full speed and my mind flashes to life, in elementary:

“Close your eyes,” the school-yard kids say.

“Why?”

“We are going to play a game!”

“Imagine a field, now how many flowers do you see?”

“I see thirty.”

“I see ten.”

“I see hundreds.”

“How close are they to you?”

“Mine are surrounding me.”

“Mine cover the field.”

“The number of flowers you see means how many friends you have and how close they are means how close you feel to them.”

“WOW, I have so many friends, ” they often boasted.

I see the school yard games, the kids would play. Then I see myself in a corner. No child should feel such anxiety. She may not be alone, but she is lonely. “I see,” I say to myself knowing no one would ever be listening, “I see no flowers in my field, I search for hours upon hours, nothing, why can’t I see any. If I run around the field, maybe they will appear, I search and search and soon the field becomes a desert with a single petal on the ground. Finally my flower, well petal, I’ll take it, but what does this mean?”

My thoughts race as the bell to end recess rings and I embrace the idea that maybe it’s too great for me to think I can have a friend.

Racing back to school I hear the teacher introduce a new girl to the class. Her hair is dark like mine. She had glasses, a gap in her teeth, and it looked like she drew a pear tree on her shirt. And She even had skin- brown like me. I’ve never seen such a girl, and she even wore her hair in braids.

“Uhmm why is her hair like that, it’s so different.” The kids said in amusement.

The kids stare confused, but I know what that means, we share something, that I never thought could happen, she can understand what it means to be me. I stare at her in amazement. I sit and hope with all my might, that she can be my flower. Maybe she can be my first ever friend.

“Please introduce yourself to the class and tell us something about yourself,” our teacher says.

I sit on the edge of my seat.

“My name is Marigold. Pleased to meet you all. I love to learn and look forward to the future, I believe it is our duty now to plan for the next generation,” she says with an air of confidence unheard-of, from girls like us. She speaks so well for someone our age, I hope-so hope, she doesn’t get swooped up by the popular crowd, they have so many friends, I hope this one can just be mine.

“Marigold, what a weird name. What does it mean? “Some kids say.

“It’s a flower!” I yell. They all stare, they have never heard me speak more than two words in this whole class , but now I wanted to be apart.

“That’s correct, Lilly, “ my teacher chimes in, “Marigold, why don’t you take the seat next to Lily.” I know she does this, just so she can separate the darkest kids in class, but I am overjoyed...

Excitement takes over me, as I realize I can now have a new friend.

As I leave my flashback, tears fill my eyes. I’m not going to look down anymore, I think to myself. Memories are way too painful and I am not strong enough to handle the pain, alone.

Suddenly, the task of going to work today is all too daunting. I race home, home to Marigold.

Today, I refuse to be lonely. At home, I let the flashbacks come, like a downpour and once again, I am playing with my Marigold.

“How come you aren’t afraid to wear braids in school,” I say.

“I wear them at home, what’s the difference?” She replies with sass in her response.

I admire everything about her. Her confidence gives me courage.

We go to play with the other kids, and feelings of anxiety slowly fade away as Marigold takes my hand, letting me know I will be ok.

“What are you playing” she yells

“We are imagining our flowers,” they respond.

“Ohh let us try, ” my Marigold says.

“OK, close your eyes and think of a field, how many flowers do you see and where are they compared to you.”

“I see so many floating above my head, and they are pear flowers, and I am dancing with them.” Marigold laughs as she dances. “What about you Lily?”

I panic and say, “ohh I see just as many and I am running with them.” I just told my first ever lie to my friend. I still only saw a few petals, as pain fills my emotions, as I know that my Marigold has so many flowers, she doesn’t need me, I am just one Lily.

“Let’s walk home.” Marigold says joyfully. As she walks she confides in me. “Lily, pretty soon I won’t be here, is that ok?"

Tears stream down my face, why is happiness something that can never stay? I think to myself, yet too scared to utter the words, afraid she will leave me in that very moment.

“What do you mean?” I hold it together to say.

“I am sick and I might be leaving soon, but I want to thank you for being my friend. I have one favor to ask of you, take care of our future generations,” she says with a soft smile.

Nothing good ever lasts. I feel this in my heart as the pain fills my mind, more than ever, but this time I hold it down, deep down because I realize I have been searching for people to be my friends for so long, this is the first time I can be one.

“I will always be there for you, my flower,” I whisper.

We embrace, we laugh, we dance, and anything she needs, I race to the chance to do that. Like a Marigold flower, I will give my Marigold, sunlight, water, soil, Lily will be there for her.

Yet week by week Marigold started to lose her petals. She would get sicker and sicker, so that pretty soon Cancer had plucked all of Marigold's petals away. No matter how hard I watered, how much time I had her in the sun, they would not regrow.

"Lily, " she could barley whisper. "Lily, take this seed and when I am gone, plant it to remember me."

"I'll take it, but I'll never let you leave."

She smiled slightly, as my marigold finally withered away.

Even though it was a brief moment, I had a friend.

As the classroom kids, once again asked

“How many flowers are in your field?”

I felt proud when my field filled with petals of Marigold flowers. It was in that moment that I realized, though she may not be with me, I would never forget her beauty.

I took her seed with me, planted it, and expected the most beautiful flowers to grow, but after months of taking care, a simple pear, pear tree emerged.

"Marigold, got her seeds mixed up, " I chuckled to myself holding back tears.

As my flashback ended, the tears turned to joy. I smiled at the tree in my backyard, as I remembered my first friend. Even though she may not be here with me, she made sure I'd remember her legacy, and plant pears for our heirs.