The Marigolds Saved Me

I couldn't do it any longer. I wanted everything to stop. Mother always said to put on a brave smile. To push through the dark spots but, I can't. I keep trying to be the person my family and friends remember. But I couldn't recognize the girl they begged me to be. I wasn't her anymore, I don't think I ever will be. I try to be this brave soul, yet I am so far gone.

Laying in bed, with tears staining my skin, I think about the flowers on the hillside I would pass as a child. The sun would fill my skin with beauty. The times when my family would run around the yard, giggling with every second. Mom and Dad would be making the snacks, the kids filling the water guns preparing for their next attack. All while I laid in the green grass, living in the moment.

Life was easier back then. I was beautiful and happy. I didn't think my body was something to be disappointed about. I would wear a gold dress with small flowers embroidered on the bottom. I'd wear my hair in a bun and flaunt the gorgeous tan from the day before. My laughs and smiles were real. They weren't something I painted on, all for the sake of my family.

Today. Today is different. We don't take that 2-hour drive to the hillside. We don't live in the moments of each other. Mom and dad work, the kids are immersed in their own lives. Talking to their friends, playing their games. The monthly trips to the hillside, turned into the "remember when we did.." trips.

All while I lay in bed, the bed that keeps me company when my family no longer can. Wearing baggy t-shirts, extra-long sweats, and messy buns. Depression would keep me stuck in the sadness. Trying to erase the memories of the hillside with the Marigold flowers. The beauty the flowers would bring to my mothers' skin.

I could hear how my father talked about the Marigolds. The stories revolved around the beauty of the flowers. How whoever wore them would gain happiness. They would bring nothing but success and beauty. He would gently place the flowers on my ears, whispering how beautiful they made me look. Comparing me to a thousand rays of light. When my little sisters would ask why I collected every Marigold flower I could reach on the hillside, I would mention how I want to remember the beauty in these family trips. I would bunch them up into a small flower crown, and place them on my dolls when we arrived home. Every month when we would return to that hillside, I'd make another crown for another doll. Putting the old ones into my memory box. Promising to bring them a new friend every time I'd return.

Getting up from my bed I walk towards the closet that hasn't been open in years. I walk right to the back, right where the old memory box sits quietly. Smothered in dust and dirt, I wipe the box down carrying it to my bed. Finding the key in my side dresser, I unlock the memories from my childhood. Right on top, are the marigold crowns. They are dead and wilted. Half of them falling apart. While the others are simply dust. I could feel my eyes start to water while counting how many crowns were left. I felt like these were the last good memories I had with my family. And now, they are gone forever.

Calling my friend, I told her that I couldn't accept that a Marigold flower could bring sadness and hate. So, my friend and I drove to the small tattoo parlor outside our small town. The tattoo artist loved the idea of infinite beauty. Carefully he traced the Marigolds onto my wrist, painting me with hope. Hoping that my family can revisit the hillside. The hillside with my family's best memories.

At home, I shared my tattoo with my family. Tears dripped down all their faces when they saw my very own Marigold flower draped over my battle scars. "It's beautiful." rang my father's voice within the silence that plagued my family.

"I know, they truly did save me," I respond with a smile on my face. The first true smile I made since the family had grown apart.