I awaken everyday to the smell of fresh flowers. It's a strong smell, but it gets old fairly quickly. Maybe it's because of my mother's poor vision she puts potent fragrances around the house to make herself feel more comfortable. She says that they look gorgeous, and putting them in glass vases enhance their beauty more so. If you ask me, it's just a waste of money. She practically forced me outside the house to go find tulips. Unfortunately, they are quite difficult to find. So, I spent everyday looking around town for a flower merchant, and I bought as many tulips as I could to bring back home. That, or I spent my time lurking among the dull and grey colors that surrounded me. Nothing was really all that vibrant, it was just scenery after scenery. They all molded together willingly, so I never paid much attention to what was going on around me. I never cared too much about boring and blank colors. I would rather spend my time looking at aesthetically pleasing things. So perhaps finding new tulips was a blessing than a curse. It would get me outside, rather than being cooped up in my own home.
I wrote that in past tense because I can no longer willingly go outside like I used to. You see, having cancer doesn't make anything easier, if anything, I've been cursed by the Tulip Gods or something. Cursed to be tangled up in bed sheets everyday, and living in the same room, seeing the same old colors plague my vision. My day-to-day activities include reading, staring at the window, and now I can say with pride that writing is now apart of the very few things I do for amusement. When I told my mother that I wanted a journal, she practically flipped. She bought me five different journals, each varying in different sizes. I'm still currently on the first one, since I intend on taking my time with it. I'm in no rush in finishing this journal. In fact, I just started this journal today. My mother got them over a month ago and they been sitting in a corner gathering dust. It was impromptu, but I grabbed a pen and the biggest journal I had and started writing.
I guess writing can become a tool for ranting and venting about my painfully boring lifestyle. Like the monotonous architecture that I'm used to seeing, my life has become just as dull. Of course, the out of the ordinary experiences happen sometimes. My pet hamster, Sisyphus landed on his back while running on his small wheel, and yes if you couldn't tell because of his name, I enjoy learning about Greek mythology. I guess I find immortal gods fascinating, since the explanations for some of them are so intriguing. However Sisyphus on the other hand is just a sad tale.
A man who is cursed to push a boulder up a hill for all eternity only to watch it fall down as soon as he brought it up. One couldn't pity him though, it was his own foolery brought upon himself. If he hadn't run his mouth, he wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble. The thing is, I'm the foolish girl who would pity such a man. Seeing something spiral down into decent, even though you worked so hard to prevent it, it can be a damper on a soul. It wasn't like he could walk away either, he was forced to go through that constant torture. He experienced never ending agony, being placed to roll an over sized rock up a hill. Maybe I'm projecting my own problems onto Sisyphus, and that's why I'm relating to him so much. Then again, naming your hamster after a Greek legend isn't considered connecting. If anything, I'm the one putting the curse onto my hamster. Being called Sisyphus until the day he dies, isn't that just as important as the tale itself...?
I must learn to stop talking about such weird things... I'm awfully strange. But that's enough about talking in the past, let's proceed onto current events. A bird landed next to my window a little while ago, and that was interesting, It was a common blue jay, nothing too different, another thing that happened today was-.
"Anna? I'm sorry to interrupt, but do you mind coming out here for a second?" My mother's piercing voice made me drop my pen into my bed. I close my diary instinctively, but I know she won't come into my room. My mother has this thing where she allows privacy, since I get so little of it. As expected with trips to the hospital and other revealing things go. I slowly crawl out of my bed and hobble outside my door. My mother is a gardener, and of course she is absolutely obsessed with flowers. I'm highly grateful that I'm not allergic to pollen, because my sinuses would be a constant chore all year round. I don't think that my mother's obsession will die out any time soon, she simply can't get enough of floral.
My house is filled with windows, so that the flowers can grow. That means that natural light is always seeking it's way into my home. I shield my eyes from the luminous light and slowly creep my way to my back porch. More often than not, my mother is always situated in the backyard, tending to our overgrown garden. Of course as expected, it is filled to the brim with tulips. All different colors combine together. The word I would use to describe the garden is vibrant. You simply can't look away from it. I'll admit, it is very nice to look at, and my mother did put her blood, sweat, and tears into her gardening. That doesn't mean she isn't crazy, she still is.
A love for flowers is simple, a crazed love for tulips is out of hand. Nothing is planted in our garden other than tulips, so it could get pretty sickening after a while. The scent of them aren't too pleasant either. Exposing yourself to them for too long could cause a headache. I should know since my own personal experience with my mother's garden included a pounding migraine. I open the slider door, and take a step out. The wooden deck feels warm underneath my feet. I carefully tiptoe around it, since I'm somewhat paranoid I'll get a splinter in my foot. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to step outside barefoot, but I don't think too far in advance. I could say that for my whole life, since I wasn't expecting cancer to knock me right off my feet, but that could be said for anything.
I found my mother sitting next to her tulip flowerbed. She was on her knees, sitting on top of a mat so her pant legs won't become filthy with mud. Her enormous hat was covering her eyes, so the sun wouldn't disrupt her. Although, my mother's eyes aren't what they used to be. Something happened to them when she was younger, leaving her blind in one eye. She never goes into full detail since she becomes afflicted with pain. I understand her reasoning for not telling me the whole story. Something's aren't meant to be delved into. You shouldn't force yourself into pried knowledge.
My mother looks up for a brief second to take in a breath when she sees my figure standing in front of her. She flinched, but quickly recovered and collects her thoughts. She gives me a smile and takes off her gardening gloves.
"Ah, Anna, isn't today so beautiful? I was going to say, why not spend sometime outside? It will be good for you." Her voice is like a soft chime. You can't help but become attracted to it. Much like the tulip garden. My eyes narrow down at the flower bed she's been working at. Next to the wooden crate, I see a packet of unopened flower seeds. My mother noticed my silence and she became concerned.
"Anna, is something the matter?" She asks, her tone becoming more steady. She tries to follow my line of sight, but can't seem to make out what I'm looking at.
"What kind of flowers are those?" I ask, completely catching her off guard.
"Huh? What do you mean? Oh- you mean these? She bends down and picks up the unknown flower packet. It's revealed that they are roses. "I accidentally purchased them at the store today. They were in the same row as the tulip bulbs, so I couldn't have known." My mother laughs. She brushes it off like it's nothing.
"Are you going to plant them?" Again I make her stop laughing, and she puts her focus on me.
"What? No, silly, I'm not going to plant these. I'll probably take them back tomorrow. I have no need for roses. The thorns always make me feel uneasy. Like I might prick myself by accident." She puts them back down and picks up her shovel and started digging a new hole to plant more tulips. My eyes are still kept on the rose packet. I lift them up from the ground and hold them in my fragile hands.
"Do you mind if I kept them then? Seeing as you have no use for them?" My mother keeps digging a hole in the ground, not really paying attention anymore.
"Sure sweetie, whatever makes you happy." She said nonchalantly. I thank her, and before she can say anything else, I rush back inside my house and into my room. It would be a shame seeing perfectly good rose bulbs go to waste. Seeing a red rose would be a nice change in atmosphere for my repetitive life. I see my journal still closed on my bed and I pick up the pen again and continue writing where I left off from earlier.
It was a common blue jay, nothing too different, another thing that happened today was my mother gave me a packet of rose seeds. Who knows, maybe I'll become like her and become a rose fanatic. In the meantime, just thinking about growing them brings a warm feeling inside me.