This is the first tale I wrote and it was published many years ago. The memory of the gift is still fresh today as is the sentiment it evokes.
The Blue Flower
I do not have a super smart bedroom. We planned to have one when we moved into the house some twenty plus years ago. We chose our colour schemes for restful ambience with just a hint of sophistication along with what we felt was an enormous bed and more than adequate his and hers wardrobes. In retrospect I think we might have had in mind one of those bedrooms you see in magazines which you think will be great. But really you may have to sleep at attention so as not to mess it up.
Reality dawned over the years. It appears that her side of clothes needed a considerably larger amount of storage and that is not taking any shoes into consideration. And for some strange reason the bed size once thought to be enormous now seems barely adequate. Neither of us sleeps at attention so the room shall never be featured in a magazine.
One item is distinctly at odds with the rest of the room. It is a wooden flower, about eighteen inches tall. It has five blue petals with a yellow centre and is atop a wooden stem which leads into a blue spotted wooden flower pot. It sits on a chest of drawers and is in my line of sight as I lie in bed. It might be more suited in a nursery or in a child’s bedroom but it sits in mine.
It was a gift. I was lying in hospital after major surgery and a friend came to visit. It was the kind of visit in hushed tones because the “patient” is poorly. My friend produced the wooden flower a little reluctantly and put it on the bedside locker. She knew that flowers are forbidden for post operative patients but felt I had to have something to cheer the spirits. I remember clearly that I laughed. Not the kind of polite smile but a deep, from the toes, kind of laugh. It did me more good than any real flowers could have done.
I kept it beside my bed throughout that stay in hospital. Everyone who came to my bedside commented on the flower and it made everyone smile from doctor to nurse to visitor. It continues to make me smile.
In my bedroom I look at that wooden flower every day. It has come to represent the friendship and support freely given in times of illness or difficulty by someone who cares.
No wonder the bloom never fades.