| General Fiction posted September 5, 2022 |
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Man frets over a gift.
The Gift
by Terry Broxson
He needed a gift. Although there was no special occasion, the gift needed to be unique. People who knew him considered creativity a strength he possessed.
"I could give her jewelry." He said to no one.
"I could have an artist design something. She is easy to please."
He flipped through a couple of catalogs and tossed them aside. He thought jewelry is somewhat personal, but it just isn't right.
The gift needed to capture her essence. He poured Blanton's Gold Label Bourbon Whiskey into a Waterford tumbler. He thought it might inspire him. What is her essence?
"Okay, I will make a list: beautiful, intelligent, funny, hates prejudice, loves cats, loves her family and friends, loves gardening, butterflies, traveling, cooking, being supportive, and the center of attention, often all at the same time."
He thinks that is a lot of essences. He also thinks getting her the right gift would never be easy.
***
It is a warm late March day in North Texas. Stephanie and Jeff are pushing a stroller with their almost two-year-old son on the River Walk after some lunchtime quesadillas. The River Walk is a U-shaped pathway that winds around the development of restaurants and townhomes near the couple's home.
The River Walk has been open for three years. It has a venue for outdoor concerts, and the area has been a proven draw for businesses.
As Stephanie and Jeff reach the U, they see a small hill covered with yellow daffodils.
"Jeff, I have never seen so many daffodils. There must be hundreds!"
"More like twelve hundred and increasing every year." This observation came from an older fellow with a wheelbarrow and gardening equipment.
Jeff asks, "Are you with the maintenance department?"
"Yes, I am. The name is Leigh."
Stephanie walks over to one of two benches, sits down facing the flowers, and says, "Leigh, it is beautiful. The city did a great job."
"It wasn't the city. The city did announce development plans a few years ago. A fella approached the city manager and offered to buy this half acre. He said he wanted to turn it into a garden honoring his wife."
"It certainly turned out well."
"He planted six hundred daffodils the first year, and they have just about doubled. When the daffodils die back, the hill gets covered with lantana, milkweed, buddleia, verbena, and passion vines, among others. The hill attracts butterflies, bees, and hummingbirds."
"Jeff, we are going to have to come back to see that."
"That will start in mid to late May. You can't see it too well but at the top of the hill is a small statue of a cat reaching up to a butterfly. Over to the right is a plaque that reads: MY BUTTERFLY'S GARDEN."
"Leigh, I am guessing the lady likes cats. Have you ever seen her here?"
"The way I heard it. The lady did like cats, and she was a well-known Master Gardener with an interest in butterflies. The fella bought the hill and was going to have it planted in the fall as a surprise for her in the spring. Unfortunately, she died from heart failure and never saw it or knew about it."
"Oh, that is so sad. Do you know why it is called My Butterfly's Garden? Sounds like a grammatical error."
"I have no clue. I need to do some work, but you all come back in a couple of months or so."
As Jeff, Stephanie, and their son left, the old fellow took a rag to clean the little plaque and said, "Because you were my butterfly, that's why."
He needed a gift. Although there was no special occasion, the gift needed to be unique. People who knew him considered creativity a strength he possessed.
"I could give her jewelry." He said to no one.
"I could have an artist design something. She is easy to please."
He flipped through a couple of catalogs and tossed them aside. He thought jewelry is somewhat personal, but it just isn't right.
The gift needed to capture her essence. He poured Blanton's Gold Label Bourbon Whiskey into a Waterford tumbler. He thought it might inspire him. What is her essence?
"Okay, I will make a list: beautiful, intelligent, funny, hates prejudice, loves cats, loves her family and friends, loves gardening, butterflies, traveling, cooking, being supportive, and the center of attention, often all at the same time."
He thinks that is a lot of essences. He also thinks getting her the right gift would never be easy.
***
It is a warm late March day in North Texas. Stephanie and Jeff are pushing a stroller with their almost two-year-old son on the River Walk after some lunchtime quesadillas. The River Walk is a U-shaped pathway that winds around the development of restaurants and townhomes near the couple's home.
The River Walk has been open for three years. It has a venue for outdoor concerts, and the area has been a proven draw for businesses.
As Stephanie and Jeff reach the U, they see a small hill covered with yellow daffodils.
"Jeff, I have never seen so many daffodils. There must be hundreds!"
"More like twelve hundred and increasing every year." This observation came from an older fellow with a wheelbarrow and gardening equipment.
Jeff asks, "Are you with the maintenance department?"
"Yes, I am. The name is Leigh."
Stephanie walks over to one of two benches, sits down facing the flowers, and says, "Leigh, it is beautiful. The city did a great job."
"It wasn't the city. The city did announce development plans a few years ago. A fella approached the city manager and offered to buy this half acre. He said he wanted to turn it into a garden honoring his wife."
"It certainly turned out well."
"He planted six hundred daffodils the first year, and they have just about doubled. When the daffodils die back, the hill gets covered with lantana, milkweed, buddleia, verbena, and passion vines, among others. The hill attracts butterflies, bees, and hummingbirds."
"Jeff, we are going to have to come back to see that."
"That will start in mid to late May. You can't see it too well but at the top of the hill is a small statue of a cat reaching up to a butterfly. Over to the right is a plaque that reads: MY BUTTERFLY'S GARDEN."
"Leigh, I am guessing the lady likes cats. Have you ever seen her here?"
"The way I heard it. The lady did like cats, and she was a well-known Master Gardener with an interest in butterflies. The fella bought the hill and was going to have it planted in the fall as a surprise for her in the spring. Unfortunately, she died from heart failure and never saw it or knew about it."
"Oh, that is so sad. Do you know why it is called My Butterfly's Garden? Sounds like a grammatical error."
"I have no clue. I need to do some work, but you all come back in a couple of months or so."
As Jeff, Stephanie, and their son left, the old fellow took a rag to clean the little plaque and said, "Because you were my butterfly, that's why."
 Recognized |
#3 September 2022 |
Artwork by Susan F. M. T. at FanArtReview.com
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