Hydrangeas

 

Hydrangeas

And did I tell you about my other grandmother,

the one who lived in the country,

weaved her own carpets,

and knew how to cast a spell?

I am sure I did.

Anyway, she had a garden,

messy and beautiful in a wild way,

just like she was.

There were apples there

and wild strawberries

and sweet pears,

But mostly there were flowers.

I remember those blue flowers,

later I learnt they were hydrangeas,

but back then they were just blue flowers to me.

I was a child, you understand.

I would pretend I was lost in this garden.

I was a princess, or a fairy.

Anyway, those hydrangea bushes were beautiful.

They were big and I was small, and I could hide behind them.

But mostly I sat on the ground and just looked at them.

Later we sold that house and that garden and my grandmother came to live with us.

In our city home, she somehow became ordinary.

I remember she cried a lot when she thought nobody could see her.

I wonder what had happened to those hydrangea bushes.

I saw my grandmother cast a spell with my own eyes.

She had good intentions, though.

I was ill and she wanted me to stop hurting.

The spell failed, but I never told her.

A few years later she died.

I never went to see the place where she had lived.

I was afraid I wouldn’t recognize the garden.

Maybe it too had become ordinary by then.

GloPoWriMo Day 11