Mother And The Marigolds

I know it’s probably a little dark but for as long as I can remember death has fascinated me. Maybe it’s because being pregnant with me was the reason my Mother stopped chemo and passed away shortly after I was born. Maybe it’s something branded deep in my subconscious from a past life. Maybe I’m just a odd person. No matter the reason there was just something about the fact life can just be over, someone’s essence can just vanish in a millisecond, that makes me appreciate and love each moment I live and breathe.

I have what’s called agoraphobia, basically social anxiety, I get intense panic attacks when I get overwhelmed in crowded spaces. On days where it gets exceptionally bad or days when I feel alone in the world I go to my mothers grave, sit along side her black granite headstone in the little corner lot near a bunch of marigold flowers, and sketch.

I keep a set of charcoal pencils in a ziplock bag tucked just beside her headstone as inspiration. I would sketch and release any overwhelming feelings, fears or burdens I have onto the blank white pages of my sketchbook. I sketch mostly diagrams of the human anatomy, like the nervous system, skeletal system, organs, I guess you could say biology was my strong suit. Sometimes I would draw other things too, like the marigolds, the rabbit that kept me company at the cemetery all spring, my neighbourhood and portraits of the people in it.

Besides myself there’s only one other person that has ever seen my sketch book, my high school’s guidance counsellor, she’s adamant I apply to the arts program at Memorial University for the fall. Im thinking about it, luckily Memorial is close enough I could stay home and take care of my dad while in school. The only downside is that I’m not sure I want to share my art, or that it would be appreciated. “You can’t think about what others think Allison, you need to think about you and what makes you happy” she would say. But it’s not that easy.

“Hey Allison, I knew I’d find you here” says Lauren.

“Geez you startled me!” I reply as I quickly shut my sketch book and carefully put my pencils away back in their place beside Mom’s headstone.

Lauren is my best friend. “I wish you’d show me your drawings” she says disappointed.

“Maybe someday” I reply.

“You always say that, come on, let’s go”

“Go? Go where?” I ask puzzled.

“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten! You said you’d help me with posters for my student council president campaign!” She says excitedly.

“Oh yeah, alright” I say as we walk out of the cemetery and towards Lauren’s house.

We walk into Lauren’s house and are instantly hit with the mouth watering aromas of her mother’s cooking. “Hi girls, supper will be in 45 minutes, pulled pork, scalloped potatoes and garden salad. Allison are you staying?” She asks me

“Yes she is, we’re working on my campaign!” Says Lauren before I have an opportunity to refuse.

Lauren grabs a box full of supplies and we dump everything out in the sun room ready to get started. We cut, paste, sketch, glue and colour for what seems like hours. Only stopping long enough to scarf down a plate of her mother’s amazing supper and continuing on again. Lauren wanted every poster unique and fresh.

I get home at about nine, Dad’s passed out in the living room again. I grab a blanket from the closet and tuck him in before going to bed myself.

I’m not sure what time Lauren got to school that morning but when I arrived our posters from last night were plastered all about the halls. I smile to myself, there’s no way she won’t make student council president! Admiring our work I absentmindedly forgot to watch where I was going and all of a sudden ended up walking straight into someone and falling flat onto my back. My books sliding every which way across the floor. “Shit! Sorry, Allison” I recognize the voice right away. He reaches his hand out to help me up, his expression full of genuine concern. “Are you okay?” He asks as he helps me back up to my feet. I’m at a loss for words. After a bit of an awkward pause I start picking up my books “I’m fine” I reply not daring to look up at him in fear of not being able to catch my breath again. I don’t do well with people.

“Wow, you’re really talented Allison! I didn’t know you could draw” my heart skips a beat. I spin around faster than intended and just stand there jaw dropped watching him flick through the pages of my sketch book. I manage to get out a barely eligible “Uh thanks”. And who would happen to walk upon the scene, other than Lauren. “Hey! You let Dylan see you sketch book before me!? Not cool!” After that she must have seen the look on my face because she instantly gave me an escape “Well, I need her now, we have, uh, campaign work to do, see ya later Dylan” and she rushes me to the bathroom.

“What happened?” She says

I explain what had unfolded. But funny thing is, after I calmed down and could think straight, I almost felt relieved. All this time not sharing my work with anyone seemed kind of silly now. What was I so afraid of? The world wasn’t going to end.

So I grabbed my sketch book and handed it to Lauren. “Are you sure?” She says knowing how private I’ve been about my sketches in the past.

“I’m sure” I say confidently.

I watch as she takes in each page, each sketch. She stops, staring at the page. “What is it?” I ask.

Tears start welling up in her eyes and she looks at me and says “It’s beautiful.”

Before I have a chance to think she leans into me, her lips softly press against mine. Tears rolling down her cheeks. I kiss her back, my mind spinning. The bell rings, we both jump. “Talk after class?” She asks

“Sure” was all I could manage to say

What just happened. Panic hits me. My mind is like a fog, my stomach in knots. I can’t be here right now.

I get to Mom’s grave and lay down in the grass, looking up at the clouds floating by, the orange marigolds peaking through in my peripheral vision. My breathing feels a lot lighter now.

It might seem strange, even though I don’t remember her, sometimes I just wish I could talk to my Mom. This is as close as I can get.