Blossoms of Yesterday
-1-
Leaves the color of fire rustled gently in the autumn breeze. The mild fragrance of roses in late bloom tickled Gilbert's nose as he reclined on the patio sofa, a newspaper folded lazily on his lap. Was it the time of year or the article he had just read, but there was that ever-tightening of throat and acceleration of heart beat … it always happened when he found himself reminded of her. She had gone away in the fall. How he hated that time of year now. Gilbert sat up and flicked open the newspaper again, to read over that article … the play of words, the gentle tones, descriptive and witty, the rather eccentric style of expression… how those very words seemed to conjure up images of her …
"Gilbert honey, dinner will be ready in half an hour. Okay?"
"Sure, take your time."
Gilbert sat back and closed his eyes. Half against his will, he thought back to the summer three years ago when he had first met her …
**********
"We've found someone who will rent out the cottage for the summer, dear."
Gilbert merely grunted in answer as he hammered away. He was fixing up the gate, a task he had been meaning to do for quite some time now.
Gilbert's mother perused the letter in hand, leaning against the gate her son had just hammered in place.
"She's a writer dear, a 36-year-old free-lance writer it says here. She's single and would like to rent out the Blythe Homestead for the summer."
"Ah! ANOTHER old maid!" Gilbert grinned as he stood up, wiping the sweat off his brow.
"Her way of writing is rather queer dear, she wrote: 'I'm hoping there will be more scope for the imagination in that lovely sea-haven called Prince Edward Island.' Now isn't that a rather strange way of expressing things?"
With squinted eye, Gilbert was busy taking measurements as he mumbled,
"Very strange … but all writers are Mum. Just gotta learn to take them with a grain of salt now and then. There! It's done!"
Gilbert's mother looked over her son's work.
"Hmmm, not bad for a fully licensed doctor!" She looked proudly at her son.
"Ah! But can he sew torn ligaments as well as he hammers?! THAT is the question!" Gilbert joked.
"We'll see come October. It will be your day of reckoning, your own practice Gilbert. I hope no one becomes seriously ill your first few days, dear, it would be so disheartening if you hammered a torn ligament!"
"Oh! A joke! Ha! Thanks for the vote of confidence, MOTHER! You ARE my real mother, by the way, aren't you?!"
They walked back to the house, arm in arm.
"Has Christine sent a telegram yet? Did she arrive safely in England?"
"Yup, got it this morning. She's settled in happily at her aunt's house and hopes to have the summer of her life before she's tied down forever to a country doctor!"
"Gilbert dear, sit here for a moment. I wanted to ask you … are you happy with Christine? I mean, are you truly in love with her?"
Gilbert's surprised gaze met his mother's questioning eyes,
"Mum! What kind of question is that? Hey, what's the matter? Don't tell me you're having second thoughts now that we're engaged!" Gilbert groaned playfully and rolled his eyes.
"No, dear … it's just that …"
Gilbert's mother looked out onto the horizon, unable to finish.
Gilbert raked his hair and gave a small sigh.
"Mum, I do love Christine. Christine and I … we go way back, you know. Things are just right with us, always been."
Gilbert's mother took her son's hand and squeezed it warmly.
"I know dear. It's just that, sometimes, I can't help thinking that your relationship with Christine is so … so … well, calculated and stale. I mean, well, I'll be honest with you dear. You're yet 26 years old. I wonder if you've ever felt that spark, that breath of tingling excitement … oh, I don't know if you understand but, well, a little bit of spontaneity in your life. It's just, honey, when I was with your father, God rest his soul, there was something in his manner, the way he walked and talked and just WAS that had "I'm in love" written all over him. Being in love and loving can be quite different, you know …"
Gilbert put an arm around his mother and squeezed her chummily.
"Mum, you gotta understand, Dad was a very special kind of man. He was a … well, a passionate kind of man, you know, very enthusiastic with a zest for life. I'm not that way like him. Perhaps I am a calculating kind of person, God knows maybe I might have made a better accountant than a doctor … but Mum, I can honestly say if I am passionate about anything, it's being a doctor. Saving lives, fighting death and disease! That's my passion. And Christine, well, she's the ideal partner in my life. I really can't quite see into that in love and loving mumbo-jumbo but Mum, everything will work out just fine, you'll see!"
With another reassuring squeeze, Gilbert ran upstairs to take a shower, a little relieved to have escaped the super-serious conversation that was rather unnerving.
Gilbert's mother sighed in surrender. How could she make him see or feel or understand things he'd never experienced? She looked up into the sky that was a swirl of brilliant orange and blue as twilight struggled over the final moments of day.
"John darling! I miss you so much. I wish you could be here. You could guide Gilbert in so many ways that I can't. Sweetheart, lead him in the best way, the happiest way. Do all you can for him from where you are and I'll do my best here, okay?"
Margie Blythe wiped a tear away.
-1-
Leaves the color of fire rustled gently in the autumn breeze. The mild fragrance of roses in late bloom tickled Gilbert's nose as he reclined on the patio sofa, a newspaper folded lazily on his lap. Was it the time of year or the article he had just read, but there was that ever-tightening of throat and acceleration of heart beat … it always happened when he found himself reminded of her. She had gone away in the fall. How he hated that time of year now. Gilbert sat up and flicked open the newspaper again, to read over that article … the play of words, the gentle tones, descriptive and witty, the rather eccentric style of expression… how those very words seemed to conjure up images of her …
"Gilbert honey, dinner will be ready in half an hour. Okay?"
"Sure, take your time."
Gilbert sat back and closed his eyes. Half against his will, he thought back to the summer three years ago when he had first met her …
**********
"We've found someone who will rent out the cottage for the summer, dear."
Gilbert merely grunted in answer as he hammered away. He was fixing up the gate, a task he had been meaning to do for quite some time now.
Gilbert's mother perused the letter in hand, leaning against the gate her son had just hammered in place.
"She's a writer dear, a 36-year-old free-lance writer it says here. She's single and would like to rent out the Blythe Homestead for the summer."
"Ah! ANOTHER old maid!" Gilbert grinned as he stood up, wiping the sweat off his brow.
"Her way of writing is rather queer dear, she wrote: 'I'm hoping there will be more scope for the imagination in that lovely sea-haven called Prince Edward Island.' Now isn't that a rather strange way of expressing things?"
With squinted eye, Gilbert was busy taking measurements as he mumbled,
"Very strange … but all writers are Mum. Just gotta learn to take them with a grain of salt now and then. There! It's done!"
Gilbert's mother looked over her son's work.
"Hmmm, not bad for a fully licensed doctor!" She looked proudly at her son.
"Ah! But can he sew torn ligaments as well as he hammers?! THAT is the question!" Gilbert joked.
"We'll see come October. It will be your day of reckoning, your own practice Gilbert. I hope no one becomes seriously ill your first few days, dear, it would be so disheartening if you hammered a torn ligament!"
"Oh! A joke! Ha! Thanks for the vote of confidence, MOTHER! You ARE my real mother, by the way, aren't you?!"
They walked back to the house, arm in arm.
"Has Christine sent a telegram yet? Did she arrive safely in England?"
"Yup, got it this morning. She's settled in happily at her aunt's house and hopes to have the summer of her life before she's tied down forever to a country doctor!"
"Gilbert dear, sit here for a moment. I wanted to ask you … are you happy with Christine? I mean, are you truly in love with her?"
Gilbert's surprised gaze met his mother's questioning eyes,
"Mum! What kind of question is that? Hey, what's the matter? Don't tell me you're having second thoughts now that we're engaged!" Gilbert groaned playfully and rolled his eyes.
"No, dear … it's just that …"
Gilbert's mother looked out onto the horizon, unable to finish.
Gilbert raked his hair and gave a small sigh.
"Mum, I do love Christine. Christine and I … we go way back, you know. Things are just right with us, always been."
Gilbert's mother took her son's hand and squeezed it warmly.
"I know dear. It's just that, sometimes, I can't help thinking that your relationship with Christine is so … so … well, calculated and stale. I mean, well, I'll be honest with you dear. You're yet 26 years old. I wonder if you've ever felt that spark, that breath of tingling excitement … oh, I don't know if you understand but, well, a little bit of spontaneity in your life. It's just, honey, when I was with your father, God rest his soul, there was something in his manner, the way he walked and talked and just WAS that had "I'm in love" written all over him. Being in love and loving can be quite different, you know …"
Gilbert put an arm around his mother and squeezed her chummily.
"Mum, you gotta understand, Dad was a very special kind of man. He was a … well, a passionate kind of man, you know, very enthusiastic with a zest for life. I'm not that way like him. Perhaps I am a calculating kind of person, God knows maybe I might have made a better accountant than a doctor … but Mum, I can honestly say if I am passionate about anything, it's being a doctor. Saving lives, fighting death and disease! That's my passion. And Christine, well, she's the ideal partner in my life. I really can't quite see into that in love and loving mumbo-jumbo but Mum, everything will work out just fine, you'll see!"
With another reassuring squeeze, Gilbert ran upstairs to take a shower, a little relieved to have escaped the super-serious conversation that was rather unnerving.
Gilbert's mother sighed in surrender. How could she make him see or feel or understand things he'd never experienced? She looked up into the sky that was a swirl of brilliant orange and blue as twilight struggled over the final moments of day.
"John darling! I miss you so much. I wish you could be here. You could guide Gilbert in so many ways that I can't. Sweetheart, lead him in the best way, the happiest way. Do all you can for him from where you are and I'll do my best here, okay?"
Margie Blythe wiped a tear away.