Story // 5 The Return

She stood at the corner of the field, watching the breeze slowly bend the spring flowers towards her face. They wanted her to jump in, so she obliged. She barreled into the neck high shoots of wild flowers that appeared as if over night. They come back for her every year. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, refreshed by their hint of perfume. Some were a deep purple, while others looked almost white.

The sun was low in the sky, the clouds pushing it down to the horizon in streaks. She took her plaid blanket and threw it on top of the flowers in front of her, watching as it bounced a little before it sank. She helped push it down, and lay down on her back.

She knew better than to pick them, wanting to keep them in a vase was futile. Without the crisp spring air they wither within hours, and droop in the most depressing way. It looks like a butterfly that's lost the will to live, delicately deceased.

She thought about all the springs she's had with these wild flowers, and how they always return to say hi, every year. Would they still grow if she never came back? Would anyone appreciate them like she did, or just mow them down like a weed.

The light was fading, and the wind was slowing down. Pretty soon she would hear the cows mosey by from the field next door. They would look towards her with a mixture of envy and judgement, wishing they had a field of wild flowers to romp around in too. But the flowers were smart. They new how pointless it was to waste all their energy growing in the cow's field, only to be eaten or stomped upon. They instead kept a safe distance from the barbed wire fence, ending sharply, leaving a path a foot wide.

She wished she could keep this feeling forever. This carefree, simple, feeling. She didn't want a single thing to change in that moment. But she knew what happens after the spring flowers. And she knew she would one day never see them again, at least not every year. Her throat swelled up, and her eyes started to sting with the beginnings of salty tears. No, she told herself, I won't ruin this moment by worrying about what happens next.

She pulled herself together. She closed her eyes. Remember this moment forever, she thought to herself. Remember every single detail....

She opened her eyes after awhile, and looked around. She was in her office, floor 47, corner view. The city was just starting to light up as dusk fell. She sighed, missing her flowers as the memory evaporated. She looked down at her notes and fabric swatches.

"Sarah," she said, calling to her receptionist. There is audible scrambling, then Sarah came into the office a little out of breath, with a note pad and pen in hand, poised to write down orders.

"Let's do watercolor shades of purple for the new line. I need Ondrea on the phone, and book a meeting with Kyle for tomorrow morning. Then I need to talk fabrics again with Erica, so set that up too."

Sarah left in rush, nodding her head continuously, still writing down everything.

She leaned back in her office chair, smiling slightly at her new idea. Then she got out her sketch pad and began to draw.

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