The Dawn arrived at another passed moment in time, the morning rush to greet the day. Out the door through the garden gate she headed to the car. Planted laid her flower bed once flourished with meticulous care, the sunshine, and fallen rain. Obtrusive weeds, sky blue, gold the light, diamonds the dew on faded blooms. From a sideways glance, she put the key in the door and fleeted a thought of when.
The hours rose to days, the sunsets fell into weeks. Evening came to another rushed end of the day. Out the garage, through the garden gate she headed to the house. He was her priority attended with meticulous care, the sunshine and fallen rain. From the kitchen window, she threw her garden a glance. Swaying in the soft breezes, the struggled blossoms beckoned when.
A weekend arrived with nowhere to be. With a key in the door the neglected garden, she planned to see. Gathering her tools she surveyed the plot. The weeds seeded from the ajacent yard. A chain link fence four feet in height stood between them. The thickly branched overgrowth extended several feet tall of the fence. She bared down in a lamented groan of when.
Without gloves and equipped with pruning shears, she snipped the branches one by one. Locked up in the twisted tangle, thoughts accompanied the tedious work at hand. He rested inside devouring his latest novel. She smiled. He despised yard work and yet took charm in her impulsive need to stop and pull a ****. Taking her view toward the house, the escort home, the Midnight stroll flashed in front of her eyes. She cared not the time, his hot mess nor her moral virtue. At the backdoor he leaned in for a kiss starting their forever. How different things were from when.
Time counted fifteen months since the devastated news. The doctor said there was no cure for the cancer he had. The chemo, the complications, he’d grown tired. He didn’t look the same. She exerted each thought with her manual clip of the shears. He lost too much weight. The treatment wasn’t working. Uninvited, there must be a way to rid the intrusion. The secateurs pruned through the fear of when.
Now in wild, scurried clips, the feelings came. The adrenalin built. The anger exploded. She threw down the hand pruner, ducked in the garage and emerged in the roar of the power hedge clipper. Emotional sweeps, falling branches poured to the ground. The sting of their broken dream, her face flushed the heat of red. The trimmed back shrubs cleared a path to the culprit. She powered off the hedge clipper. Grabbing the garden *****, she hopped the fence resolved to conquer the when.
He found her in the neighbor’s yard. Crouched down, garden tools at her side, wrestling with the last rooted trunk. From the sight, she needed more than a glass of water he brought. She wore bloodied cuts and scratches from the sleeveless tank and running shorts. Her repurposed boots were covered in dirt. He watched her. He looked around the yard. Not sure what had gone on, he sensed she had been in some kind of war. The chemo, the complications, she looked tired. She didn’t look the same. His expression grew in a concerned look of when.
With a yank, her hands slipped on the trunk. She plopped back on her **** and noticed him standing there. She got up with excited urgency in her voice. Heavy in her breath, she explained she needed a saw. She needed to cut the cancer out. With a brave smile, he asked to her come back over. She climbed the fence, dismissing the misworded and went on, convinced she’d be the prefect ***** match. He held her and finally she cried out all the when’s.
The sun began its set on the horizon and with the last of the tied bags she surveyed her work, thankful her neighbor didn’t mind the clearing in his yard. With the garden tools back in the garage, she returned to the house and found him drawing a warm bath. The buried wounds he planned to see. Care to her garden was just a matter of when.
May 12, 2013
R.A.N. | 09.01.75-12.13.09 | You're always with me
and when I'm where you are, all will be as it was when.