Por el camino de la caléndula

Waking up with a stretch and a yawn, I find that it’s still night out. Sometimes I think my body is trying to sabotage me by depriving me of sleep, but jokes on it, I’m just gonna get a drink of water and head back to bed to get some needed rest before work. Removing the blanket, I lift my head from my comfy pillow and precede to step onto the floor. That’s when I start to feel something, not the comfy roughness of my carpet, but a soft texture, like I’m stepping in a bundle of silky cloth. I look down found my feet in the midst of marigold petals, and then allow my eyes to follow a straight line of the reddish-orange flower out my bedroom door.

Don’t remember putting flowers on my floor, and I’m pretty sure that Día de Muertos isn’t until next month. Maybe, it has been a long day yesterday. Anyway, feeling the need to bless my dry throat with water, I walk on the petals making my way to the kitchen. The kitchen comes to view on my right and I start to veer right, but when I step off the flowery path I feel as though I can’t. It’s as though a force is keeping me in place on the trail. I feel worry, not knowing what’s going on, that’s when I find the path is leading toward the outside of my home. A thought comes to my mind to put me at ease for a moment, if I follow the marigold way to where it wants to take me, maybe it’ll let me go. It sounds crazy, maybe it’s my age finally catching up with me, but if it’s the only way to free me from this nightmare I’ll take that crazy leap.

Walking down the red carpet for florists, I make my way to the front door. Wanting to be a little decent, I open my coat closet and put on my jacket over my undershirt, thank God the path is close to the closet. Then I open the front door to step outside, walking down the stone stairs to the sidewalk. Once I did, I notice that instead of feeling the chill of a fall’s night I feel as though I am numb to its temperature. It’s strange considering I’m only in a jacket, under-shirt and boxer-shorts. Maybe I should put on some pants before I go. Turning around I once again feel the force keeping me on the path, and see that the path that came from my house is gone, like the petals where swept away by ghosts. I try to force myself off the path, but once again no luck. Whelp, guess I’m going somewhere without pants, good thing the neighbors aren’t awake to see this. Taking a step forward, I continue on the path to wherever it’s leading me.

After a few minutes of walking on petals, I find the path is taking me to the town park. It’s been quite a while since I came here, never thought I would be back. The park isn’t a bad place to visit, it’s just not the same without my wife though. She died from cancer five years ago, and before she passed we would come to the park and took in the gentle scenery of families spending time together, couples playing Frisbee, and dog owners letting their dogs play about on the grass. It was her our favorite pass time, now in the night it carries a sense of suspense, like something will jump out at me any second. However, much like my neighborhood, this time the park is empty of activity.

Getting back to the marigold petals, they lead me to the forest part of the park, making me enter the tree covered area. I look at the trees around me, standing tall like guards on a night watch. It feels like the trail was taking it’s time before it’s grand reveal, which then begins my annoyance of it. Then a petal rises up to my face, then another, and then three, no nine, no fourteen, no… I lost count when the petals start to pick up speed and spin around me like a cyclone made of marigolds. The flowery tornado spins faster and faster, threating to become an actual one. Then it just breaks apart and slowly the petals fall to the ground like a lazy rainstorm.

When the last petal lands on the ground, I find myself in and bright orange suit with a marigold pin in my chest pocket, like I’ve been chosen to try out the summer collection for Gucci. However, it’s not the suit that takes my attention, it’s my skin. No longer was it rough from years of labor, but smooth and scar-free. I then allow my fingers run through my hair, and it feels longer, like what should have taken months for it to grow, but just only took a couple of seconds or was it? What is happening to me? My question is answered when my eyes land on a beautiful woman. She’s in a colorful huipil, with the top being yellow with orange lining with yellow flowers on it, and the flowing skirt being orange being covered with yellow and red flowers. Her obsidian hair is tied into a ponytail, staying in place by a hair-clip with a marigold on it. She is a sight to behold, a sight I hadn’t seen in five years.

“Hello mi amor.” She gently says. Forgetting what transpired earlier, I rush to her and hug her like it’s the only way to keep her here. We then kiss, with the warm brilliance we always felt. We pull back and stare into each other’s eyes, taking in our summer-colored attires.

“How?” I finally ask her. “How is this possible? I thought you died? And, how are we young again?”

“We’re like this because.” My love says to me, she then gains a sad look, as though it pains her in her heart to tell me this. “Well, because you’re like me.” That phrasing confuses me, what did she mean by that? After a moment of ponder I now see what she’s implying.

“You mean, I’m… I’m…” She sadly nods her head, affirming my worst suspicion. I feel panic building-up inside as I try to understand.

“But how?!” I ask with fear.

“Heart attack, in your sleep.” She calmly answers.

“But, I’m not that old!”

“It happens to all in any age.”

“But our children! And grandchildren! They need me! I have to go back!” I turn to make my escape, but in the most awfully-placed timing, the force is blocking my path back. “No! No let me out! Let! Me! Out!” I yell out in to the invisible wall. Seeing that I can’t go back, I fall to my knees letting the tears of built-up frustration leak and leave their thin trail down my face. I feel my love placing her hand on my shoulder.

“It’s okay mi amor.” She says kindly “They’ll be fine, we have left them with all we can give them.”

“But, is it enough?” I ask her, lifting my face to stare into her eyes looking for answers. “Will our familia be able to get by without me?”

“Yes, you taught our children to work hard, to never let anyone bring them down, and to always be close to each other. Because of us, they are successful in their fields and they in turn will teach their children the same. And will always know of our love for them.” Breathing in and out, letting myself be calm, I wipe my tears from my face and rise up from my knees. My wife then wraps her arm around mine as we look at the park forest.

“So, where are we going?” I ask her.

“Home, where the rest of the family is waiting.” I then take one last breath and releasing it, feeling my heart at peace I say to her.

“I’m ready.” Then just like before the marigold cyclone spins around us, taking us to a place that is heavenly.