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Lavender and Apples

Going Home

By Suzy Jacobson CherryPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
Orion — CC0 Public Domain photo from publicdomainpictures.net

She had fallen through the cracks. Just one more old woman, with nothing to show for her life but a shopping cart full of old clothes and canned goods, and a toothless grin. As darkness drew near, she parked her cart close to a live oak tree in the city park. She was careful to chock the wheels with rocks to make it more difficult to steal her belongings as she slept.

The grass beneath the oak was soft, the soil moist but pleasant. She breathed deep the scent of earth and green and the wood of her tree home, filling herself with the love given freely from the land. Evening pulled a deep blue blanket over her head, and she closed her eyes. The noises of the night deafened her. These were not the night sounds of her youth, these noises of cars and buses, sirens and drunken men yelling obscenities through empty jaws.

The woman lay her head back against the tree, so strong and sturdy, like a good man’s shoulder. In her mind, she could see through the city lights to the stars beyond. She picked out Orion and focused her thought upon his belt. Soon, the sound of the south city night faded, and cicada-song filled her mind.

Now, she was in the country of her youth. Still she gazed upon Orion, going over the past day one more time. It had been so wonderful! Annette smiled and placed her hand on her belly. It had been so exciting when the doctor had confirmed her suspicions. She was going to have a baby! Because she was so young, so innocent, she believed that her child would always be there for her; that not even death could touch her or her child. She thought so of her husband, too. He would be so pleased to hear this news! She had not told him yet, but had come here, to her parents’ home, to tell her father first.

“If it’s a girl,” she had cried, “I shall name her Promise!”

Her father had only smiled, a passed a loving hand over Annette’s head. Then, he had reached for her mother’s photograph and gone into the kitchen where still her scent lingered.

Now, beneath the oak, the old woman shifted, and the cicada-song changed to a lullaby. Annette lay in her mother’s arms. She could not speak, but she knew Orion from a memory, and loved him. And oh, how she loved this woman who caressed her and nurtured her, offering breast and a gentle touch. The scent of lavender and apples filled the air, and Annette was certain that her beloved Mother would be there forever.

Back in the city park, the old woman woke a moment. Seeing only darkness, she drifted again toward the pleasant places she had just visited. Silence fell upon the night, and a light appeared before her. In the circle of luminescence, she saw a young woman beckoning to her. Annette stood and held out her arms as her daughter ran to her. They held one another for one long moment. It was as if the disease had never taken Promise from her so many years before. Then, as they gazed into one another’s eyes, Annette saw the face of her daughter change to that of her mother. Startled, she almost cried out, but her mother placed a finger to Annette’s lips, and took her hand.

At that instant, Annette knew that her mother and her daughter were One. They were One with one another, they were One with everything. They never spoke, but now Annette knew deep within that although her mother had not been able to remain with her in this life, she had still been nearby, somewhere. Somewhere and always, her love had sustained Annette through the times of loss. She had been there when Promise was so ill, and afterward when things were so tough in Annette’s marriage. Losing Promise had brought sadness and brokenness to Annette’s husband. He never recovered, and took his own life at a young age. Annette’s mother had been with her, lifting her up like an angel, keeping her from losing her composure — and yes, even her sanity.

When Annette’s father died, she spent many hours cleaning out the farmhouse where her mother had given birth to her and her father had lived out his long days. As she worked, she was always certain that she could smell her mother’s lavender perfume and the perpetual apple pies that her mother baked, year-round, thanks to the cool root cellar beneath the house.

Now, Annette walked with her mother toward the light. Annette knew that they would be together again, when it was their proper time, for the circle of returning never ends. Now, hand in hand, they stepped into a warm, honey glow that Annette had never felt nor seen before.

It was beneath the great old oak in the park, amidst the cacophony of a city day dawning, that they found her. She was an old woman, whom nobody knew. She lay against the sturdy tree trunk, her eyes fixed upon that part of the sky where Orion can be found. She had a smile on her face, as if she had died in unusual happiness. As they took her away and others grabbed at her belongings, there hung upon the air the strange scent of lavender and apples.

The End

© 13 May 1996 Suzy Jacobson Cherry All Rights Reserved

Short Storyfamily

About the Creator

Suzy Jacobson Cherry

Writer. Artist. Educator. Interspiritual Priestess. I write poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and thoughts on stuff I love.

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