A part of Frank
Snyder felt like he had wasted his life. And not just a small part of it
either, but a rather large part, if you got right down to it. Sure he had a
secure job at a highly thought of engineering company located in a suburb of
Minneapolis, not a bad commute from where he lived. And, sure, he had a
wonderful family and a loving wife, Jan, who, now that the kids had grown and
left home, was happily devoting her time to the antique shop she ran with a
group of her friends in a highly sought after retail block in a quaint
neighborhood near Lake Harriet about a mile from where she and Frank lived. All
of that was well and good. In fact, most of his friends gave him a hard time
when he mentioned his vague dissatisfaction.
"Get over it, Frank," his
closest friend Larry, a very focused and dedicated software engineer said over
after work drinks at a bar in Uptown. "Either do something about it or
don't. Your complaining is not becoming at all."
"I'm not complaining, I'm
stating a fact," Frank responded. "Just thinking out loud."
"So do something about it, then,"
Larry said, emphasizing his point by finishing off his shot of Maker's Mark and
standing up, getting ready to leave. "Get yourself a hobby." He began
enumerating, counting off on his fingers, " You've got your outside stuff
like fishing and hunting. Your mountain biking and kayaking. Hang gliding of
wake boarding." Larry was getting on a roll. "Then you've got your
inside stuff like painting or learning to play guitar, or you could even write
a novel." He stopped and looked at his friend, who was holding up his hand
to stop. "Tons of stuff to do, if you ask me." Frank just shook his
head, getting a little discouraged. None of those things were even of the
remotest interest to him. "Anyway," Larry said, turning and waving his
fingers, "I'm outta' here. Lynn'll be waiting for me. See ya' at the
office." One of Larry's many hobbies was restoring classic cars. Right now
he was working on a two-tone turquoise and white 1957 Chevy Belair four door
convertible with a continental kit on the back. This one he'd name Lynn.
Frank had to admit he was a little
envious that his friend had a hobby he enjoyed so much. He watched as Larry
wove his way through the crowd and out the door. His gaze fell on a row of
hanging planters that lined the inside of the windows at the front of the bar.
They were full of lush, green plants with their shining foliage cascading over
the edges like leafy waterfalls. They added more than just a nice touch to the
room, they gave it life. Besides that, they were pretty. Frank felt himself intrigued
by them. Truth be told, he wasn't the most macho guy around. He enjoyed sports
and stuff like that as much as the next guy, but his life didn't revolve around
them, nor did it depend on the whether or not any of the major sports teams in
the area were winning or losing. He'd just as soon read a book or go for a walk
with his wife than spend three and a half hours on a Sunday glued to a
television set, something Larry and other of his friends did. Nope, that wasn't
for him. There was more to life than that. Then he had an idea. He'd always
liked gardening. Maybe he'd expand the little garden he'd been fiddling around
with the last couple of years. That would be something he could do. He could
buy some plants and use them to add a little color to the yard. It would get
him outside, he'd be in the fresh air and maybe even work up a sweat. He knew
he'd been putting on some extra pounds over the years since the kids had moved
out. Both he and Jan were in their mid fifties. She had her antiques and circle
of friends. What did he have? His job, of course, but not much else when it
came right down to it. Maybe now was the time to make a change. Do something
different. The more he thought about it the more it sounded like a good idea. He
briefly wondered what Larry would think. Probably not much. He'd probably
chastise him, make fun of him and, as a joke, suggest bird watching instead,
ironically something Frank thought he might someday consider. Gardening may not
be all that adventurous or macho as far as Larry was concerned, but this wasn't
about Larry. It was about him and for now it sounded good. He paid his tab and
hurried home, eager to tell his wife, pausing for a moment at the front of the
bar to admire the vibrant green plants in the hanging baskets, fighting an urge
to touch them. He didn't know what they were, but that was Ok. He was looking
forward to learning.
"Are you nuts?" Jan said later
on that evening when he told her about his idea. "You don't know the first
thing about gardening." His wife, it appeared, was less than enthusiastic
about his idea.
But that was Ok. What the heck, he
thought to himself, forging ahead, he'd do it anyway. The idea was beginning to
sound not only exciting but challenging. He needed a change and doing something
new in his life continued to sound good. In the end, he really couldn't talk
himself out of it. Besides, what did he have to lose? Not a thing.
The engineering mind of Frank kicked
in over the next few weeks as he spent time planning and laying out the next
steps. He and Jan had moved into the two story, white stucco house in southwest
Minneapolis twenty one years ago when the kids, Colby and Jaynie, were still
toddlers. The street was a quiet one, lined with older well cared for houses.
Ravished years ago by Dutch Elm Disease the neighborhood now was home to a mixture trees like maple,
oak and ash. Frank's home measured
twenty five feet square and sat in the middle of a lot measuring fifty feet
wide by one hundred feet deep. It faced west and the south side got excellent
sunlight. That's where he decided to begin. Over a weekend in the end of June
he started to dig out the sod all along the south side of the house in a
straight line about four feet out from the foundation. He went to the local
home store and had them cut four inch square timbers eight feet long so they
could fit in the back of his Prius. Then he laid them in as an edge to his
garden, working on his hands and knees, leveling the ground with a trowel as he
went. It took him two weekends to complete, but late Sunday afternoon of the
second weekend, as he was smoothing the soil with a rake, Jan came out and
admired his work.
"I have to say it looks pretty
good there, big fella'," she said." Almost like you know what you're
doing." She smiled and rubbed his shoulder. For many years Frank's life
style had been rather sedentary but now this physical activity felt good. Jan's
hand on his shoulder felt even better.
"I'm trying." He grinned,
acknowledging her compliment. "I've added bags of horse manure and other
stuff to pump up and enrich the soil. Next up is some plants."
Jan looked at the dug up space, the
dirt lying fresh and fragrant in the late afternoon sun. She enjoyed seeing her
husband so happy. For some reason, he'd been kind of down for the last year or
two. Nothing critical, she felt, just not himself. He was a good man. She had
always loved his sense of humor and his positive attitude. He was a hard worker
and never complained if things at the office were too crazy, which, she knew,
they sometimes were.
She rubbed her hand through his
hair. It was gray and thinning. His eyes were twinkling with enthusiasm and his
face was getting tan from all the time he'd been spending working outside. Even
his arms and legs were showing some color. His light blue tee-shirt and tan
cargo shorts were smudged with dirt. There was an aroma around him that was a
mixture of sweat and heat and fresh air that smelled surprisingly pleasant. He
seemed not only happy, but as healthy as he'd been in she didn't know how long.
"What kind of plants are you going
to put in," she asked, suddenly wanting to connect more with him.
Frank pointed down the block.
"A bunch of pretty ones. I'm getting them down at Sunnyside."
Three blocks away was a neighborhood
garden center named, appropriately enough, Sunnyside Gardens. Next Saturday he
was there at seven in the morning as soon as the gate opened. All in all he
made half a dozen trips loading plants at Sunnyside and unloading them in the
driveway near his new garden space. Then he had to plant them and water them in.
By the time he was done late Saturday afternoon he was sweat stained and happy.
He'd planted: golden-yellow Black-Eyed Susan's
(Rudbeckia). Three different colors of cone-flowers (Echinacea), purple and
white and terra cotta. Pink and red and burgundy Bee-Balm (Monarda) and lilac,
purple and white Phlox. All of them together were so pretty that he took out
his iPhone and snapped some photos and sent them to Larry. His response was a
good natured, "Lots of work for stuff that's just going to die every
year." Ha, ha, Frank thought to himself. All of his plants were
perennials. They'd come back year after year and apparently Larry didn't know
that. See, he was learning something that his friend didn't know and just that
felt good. But what really felt good was how much Jan and even some neighbors
thought of his project.
The sun was setting to the west and
the day was cooling . Jan arrived home from a busy Saturday at her shop and met
him outside, surveying his work. "I have to admit," she said, patting
him on the back, "This looks really nice. I like all the different colors."
"You know what all the colors
remind me of?" Frank asked. She gave him a questioning look, like, go
ahead. "That cereal the kids used to eat. You know, those Fruit
Loops."
Jan burst out laughing. "God, Frank,
I hadn't thought about them in years. They were so loaded with sugar..." She
laughed some more and it made Frank feel good to hear her. His gardening maybe
would end up having a positive effect in his relationship with his wife, which
was good anyway, but maybe now was getting better. Stranger things could
happen.
"What's up next?" She
asked.
The edge of the new garden along the
side of the house was about five feet from the driveway which formed the
boundary between him and his neighbor. There was a narrow strip of grass between
the new garden and the driveway but he didn't want to do anymore planting in
that area. It got beat up pretty badly with the snow that piled up there during
the winter when he shoveled. "To add more color, I'm going to plant some
annuals in with the perennials," he said, pointing to the spaces between
the new plants, feeling good and knowledgeable and noticing that Jan nodded
approvingly. " But I've also been thinking about the back yard. Come on with
me." He took her hand and they walked along the edge of the new garden
past the back of the house into the back yard. This area was shaded by a
fifteen year old sugar maple tree that was about twenty feet high. He and Jan
looked around. "I'm going to tackle this next," he said. The back
yard was empty of any planting except for the tree. Years ago, along the
boundary on the far side, a previous owner had put in a four foot high chain
link fence which was now a rusted, bent up mess. Frank pointed at it. "I'm
thinking of having the fence taken out and a new wooden one put in, then
putting a line of plants along the edge of it kind of like what I just did back
there." He pointed back to where the new garden was. "It'll close the
backyard in and make it more private." He paused, looking around,
envisioning it. "Make it like a sanctuary."
"Sounds ambitious," Jan
said, frowning and looking somewhat skeptical. She'd not seen Frank this
enthused about anything since... Well, since she couldn't remember when.
"Lots of work," she added.
"I know, but I've got a
plan."
Frank's plan, in addition to
planting along the (soon to be built ) new fence, was to also dig out an area
along the back boarder of the yard. Here he would plant shade loving plants
like hosta and pulmonaria. He took a few minutes to explain his idea to Jan,
who listened, her skepticism finally being won over by her husband's enthusiasm.
She finally nodded when he was
finished and said, "Well, it sounds like a plan alright. Are you sure
you're up to it?" Frank's dad had died of a heart attack years earlier.
Now, at their age, health was always a consideration.
Frank barely heard her, gazing
around the empty yard, seeing it like an artist might, a blank canvas waiting
to be turning into a beautiful work of art. "Yeah, I'm up for it," he
said, turning to Jan and embracing her. "I'm pretty psyched."
She laughed and hugged him back.
"Let's go get some ice tea to celebrate. You can fill me in some more on
your ideas." They headed inside, arms around each other, happier with each
other than they'd been in a long time. Working on, and now finally completing,
the new garden had prompted a positive change in Frank's attitude which subsequently
affected Jan and they were both better off for it. His enthusiasm for his new
hobby was infectious. Even though Jan had her life with her antiques business
and circle of friends, she now felt herself drawn into Frank's new world with
his fresh ideas, and gardens and colorful plants. It was like he'd become more
alive. It somehow was also making them stronger as a couple, happy and
fulfilled in ways previously not experienced by either of them. They came back
outside and set out their lawn chairs with a little table between and relaxed
in the back yard, sipping ice cold tea and talking, hardly aware of the sun
setting to the west. For them a new day was just around the corner, and that
new day was one they were both looking forward to.
And that may have been the end of
Frank's story except that it was really only just the beginning.
He found a local handyman who agreed
to remove the old chain link fence and install a new one. After a little
consultation they chose a nice crisp six foot tall natural wooden fence with
interwoven lattice along the top. The handyman, who name was Gil, was a retired
Minneapolis Parks Department worker and he knew what he was doing. He got the
old fence out and the new one installed in three days. He complemented Frank on
his 'side garden' as the first garden along the side of the house was now being
called and made a few suggestions about the back garden where Frank was
planning to plant hostas.
"Try some Astilbe and maybe
some Solomon's Seal," Gil suggested the last day when he was picking up
his tools and getting ready to leave. "They'll add a nice bit of texture
to what you're planning with the hostas."
Frank did that. He was finding that
people who enjoyed gardening loved to talk about plants and advice was
generally given freely and often. And that was just fine. Frank was learning as
he was going along and enjoying it. Not only did Jan notice and appreciate the
change in him, but people at work did as well.
"You're looking tan and
fit," Larry said to him on a Monday toward the beginning of August. With
the backyard completed, Frank had spent the weekend digging out and planting
another planting area, this time in the front yard. "Working on the garden
again?"
"Always." Frank smiled and
stretched, feeling good about the way his muscles felt. Instead of being soft
and flabby, they were getting a toned, firm feel. He was indeed feeling fit,
having lost about seven pounds. "I was outside all weekend. The place is
looking great. You should drive that '57 Chevy of yours over to see it
sometime."
"I just can't believe you ended
up doing gardening," Larry said, looking puzzled. "I was thinking you
might have tackled something a little more..."
"What?" Frank jumped in, his
smile gone and a challenging tone to his voice. "More...dangerous. Like
your helpful idea of me going hang-gliding or mountain biking or something like
that?"
"Well..." Larry was suddenly
at a loss, seeing his friend getting a little peeved. "You know..."
Frank held up a hand to stop him.
"If you don't think gardening is macho enough, come on over and help me
next weekend. I'm digging out a new bed and could use an extra pair of hands."
He stopped and gave Larry a look. "And the muscle, too, if you're up for
it." Larry was taken aback, suddenly speechless. He'd never seen his
friend this charged up before. Then Frank laughed, relieving the tension.
"Hey, man, I'm just kidding. I get what you're saying," Slapping his
friend good naturedly on the shoulder. "Yeah, I could have chosen
anything, but I like my gardens. I like planning them, digging them out and
working in the soil. It works for me."
They left it at that and when back
to their office cubicles. Surprisingly, though, Larry did eventually drive his
Chevy over. And he really was blown away by what Frank had accomplished. The
yard, which three months ago had been nothing but grass and the occasional
scraggly bush, was now completely transformed. Frank had planted evergreen
shrubs up against the house in the front and filled pots with pink geraniums
that he put on the steps leading to the front door. Along the brick walkway
leading from the sidewalk to the front door and along either side of it he planted
a variety of brightly colored petunias. On each side of the walkway, out in the
yard, he dug out freeform circles that he planted with ornamental grasses, gray
cones flowers, Indian paintbrush and asters, giving the front yard a prairie
sort of look. Along the far side of the house (opposite of his first 'side
garden') he dug out a strip and planted Lilies-of-the-Valley, a hearty perennial
and one of Jan's favorite's, that would bloom sweet scented, tiny white bell-like
flowers every spring. He had his original side garden and then the back yard
where he'd added sun loving plants like cone flowers, black-eyed Susan's,
bee-balm and phlox along the new fence Gil put in. As an homage to his dear
departed mother he'd even planted some old time pink peonies. Along the border in
the back of the yard was his shade garden with hostas, astilbes and pulmonaria
which he extended all the way to the wall of the garage where he dug out
another garden and added more hosta's.
As the summer progressed, in the
evenings after dinner, he and Jan would often sit in lawn chairs in the back
yard just looking at the gardens and talking. They'd admire all the pretty
colors, breathe the fresh scent of whatever was blooming and listen to birds
singing, bidding a final farewell to the day. Jan would fill him in on how her
antique business was doing and Frank would talk about further plans for the
gardens he was envisioning. It seemed that Jan was enjoying this time with her
husband more and more, looking forward to it during the day. And Frank reciprocated,
more interested in the shop and talking with Jan about her business and
whatever antiques she and her partners were considering purchasing. It was like
the gardens were bringing them closer somehow, working some sort of flowery
magic on them.
One evening around Labor Day, while
they were sitting in the backyard, Jan reached over and caressed Frank's upper
arm. The phlox were blooming lavender and white and the coneflowers where full
of purple flower heads that were attracting orange and black monarch
butterflies. Honey bees buzzed lazily through burgundy bee-balm and the golden
black eyed Susan's were in full color. Frank had hung baskets of salmon and
white geraniums off the new wooden fence and they were bursting with blooms."It's
so pretty back here, now," she said, leaving her hand there for a
moment."I'm glad you're doing this."
"You like it?" Frank
asked, rubbing her hand, liking the feel of it and her.
"I do," Jan responded,
smiling, her eyes bright with feeling. "Very much."
Frank's gardens were having a
positive effect on not only his marriage and his relationship with Jan, but on
the neighborhood as well. Toward the end of September he bought about a dozen
fall blooming asters in a variety of colors ranging from blue to violet to
magenta and he was adding them to the gardens he'd already dug. He was in the
front yard when a couple strolled by walking their little dog. They stopped and
complemented him on his yard.
"It looks great," the guy
said, a young man around twenty.
His wife or girl friend added,
"Is it a lot of work?"
Frank just laughed and said, "Not
really. Not if you don't have anything better to do."
The young couple smiled and took
their time looking around some more before moving on. It made him feel good. The
gardens really were a lot of work, but it was work he didn't mind at all. Did
that make it fun? Hard to say. At least it made it rewarding. He was feeling a
sort of spiritual connection to them, if you could call it that. He felt
enriched somehow, working with his gardens. It was hard to him to explain or
put into works, but it was there nevertheless. He felt better for having
planted them and for taking care of them and that counted for a lot, as far as
he was concerned.
His neighbors began stopping by more
and more often, too, talking with him and complimenting him on how pretty
everything looked. Some of them ever started planting and adding flowers of
various types to their yards. Around the time most of his plants started to die
back in October Frank was struck by how pretty his yard looked. He'd been
coming home from work, just pulling into the driveway, when the variety of
colors standing out in the late afternoon sun, gleaming like a sea of brightly
colored jewels, was stunning to him. It made him feel happy and alive. It was a
good feeling.
The last planting he did for the
season, just before the first snow fell in mid November, was to plant nearly
two hundred tulip and daffodil bulbs in the gardens in the front and the side,
his first garden and his sentimental favorite. He planted them in groups of ten,
lovingly adding bone meal and blood meal for nourishment. After the last of
them was put in the ground and buried he stood up and looked around,
remembering all the work he'd done over the past months and feeling better than
he had in years with himself and his life. He was actually looking forward to
the following year with a sense of excitement and anticipation. There was frost
on the ground right now and his hands were cold and stiff through his gloves. He
was hoping his plants would all survive Minnesota's harsh winter of cold and
snow. Time would tell. They were perennials, after all. They were supposed to.
A month later, in the middle of
December there was a foot of snow on the ground. By the end of February the
next year there was twenty seven inches. Frank's flower beds lay sleeping
underneath a white blanket, resting and waiting. In the middle of March, when the
spring thaw finally began, Frank found himself trudging through the snow in his
yard, gazing where his gardens were buried, willing the snow to melt faster. He
hadn't felt this kind of anticipation since his kids had been born, a sentiment
he chose not to share with anyone, not even Jan.
Finally the snow was completely
melted and the earth lay bare, soaking up the sun's life giving rays. He
checked the gardens every day, anticipation building . Finally, when he went
outside on a warm morning in the middle of April, he found little tender green
shoots starting to appear, pushing up through the dark, damp soil. The bulbs
he'd planted in the fall had survived winter's snow and cold and were starting
to grow. He was beside himself with joy. They were alive.
Excitedly he ran to the back door,
opened it and yelled inside. "Jan, come here," he called. "The
bulbs are growing."
"I'll be right there," she
called back and returned to her phone call. "Yeah, that was Frank. He
wants to show me something in the yard."
Frank was shuffling back and forth
on the step in his muddy work boots, holding the back door open and waiting. He
could hear his wife. "Not in the yard, in the garden," he yelled
inside, correcting her.
"Sorry," she called back, smiling,
appreciating her husband's enthusiasm. It was nice to see. She listened to her
friend on the other line before responding, "Yeah, he's pretty excited.
I'll call you later." Then called to Frank. "I'm coming."
She heard the door slam and pictured
her husband running like a kid back to his garden, his favorite one, the first
one he'd dug, the side garden. She smiled. He could be doing lots worse things
with his life. He didn't drink much at all and had quit smoking ten years
early. He didn't go out carousing. He was a good father and caring husband. The
gardens made him happy and that made her happy. He had his hobby with his
gardening and she had her work with her antique business. They were sharing a
good life and were closer now than they'd been in years.
She pulled on her boots and a jean
jacket, taking a moment to fluff her hair. Then she stepped outside into the
sunny warmth of a new spring morning. She stood a minute, breathing in the clean,
fresh air and feeling like life just couldn't get any better. Birds were
singing and there was a faint, light green blush of new leaf buds forming on
the trees. The sky above was so blue it almost hurt her eyes. There was a sense
of anticipation in the air, the kind that only those living through months of
snow and freezing cold could relate to. Spring was finally on its way and with
it a time of rebirth and new life. So, as she rounded the corner of the house
to meet her husband, the last thing she expected to find was what she found. It
was Frank laying on the ground, rolling back and forth and gasping and moaning,
obviously in pain.
"Frank," Jan screamed and
ran to him, dropping to her knees on the soggy ground. She cradled his head in
her arms and held him close to her chest for a moment before taking out her
phone to call 911. When she hung up she held him again. His breathing was
labored. She looked at his face. It was pale, almost ashen. His chest rose and
fell irregularly. She briefly wondered if she was witnessing her husband's last
breaths before she forced the thought from her mind. No, she yelled to herself.
Quit thinking like that. Get a grip on yourself. She brushed her hand over
Frank's forehead. He opened his eyes. She thought he recognized her.
"Frank," she said gently, caressing his face, "Don't leave me.
The ambulance is on the way." Frank was able to give her a weak smile back.
His eyes were fluttering, open only slightly. He tried to smile some more, but
his lips were skewed, like his mouth didn't work anymore. He tried to speak. It
was like this tongue was twice at thick and he had a mouth full of mud.
"Shhh," Jan said, "Just rest."
Frank made an effort to wet his lips
and tried rally his strength, struggling. He forced his eyes open so he was
looking right at her. In the distance the siren from the ambulance cut through
the air. They were only a few minutes away. His eyes made contact with hers.
"An," he said, his voice a muffled whisper, slurred. "An, id ou
ee em?"
Jan shook her head, eyes filling
with tears. He was trying so hard to speak. She had no idea what he was saying.
It was painful to watch. "Just be quiet, dear. Rest."
He closed his eyes for a moment,
gathering his strength once more before opening them again. "A arden," he said,
nearly unintelligible. "Id ou ee a arden."
Something about the garden? Despite
herself, and through the tears now flowing freely, Jan looked over her shoulder
to the side garden, Frank's favorite. She looked back at him. "What,
Frank?" She held him close and whispered in his ear, trying not to break
down, "What is it?"
"The ulbs," Frank said, and
tried to indicate what he meant with his hand, with limited success. "The
ulbs are owing."
Jan looked back. There in the
garden, among the leaf litter and broken clots of soil left from the long, long
winter, tiny green shoots were poking up through the soil. Little peaks of
color showing through the battered earth. The bulbs Frank had so carefully
planted at the end of last season were growing. They had survived. She managed
a smile as she looked into Frank's eyes, eyes that she thought might be showing
the tiniest little twinkle. "I see them, Frank. I see them. They look
beautiful."
Frank's grin was askew as his eyes
closed and his face relaxed. The ambulance came quickly to a stop in front of
the house and two paramedics ran across the yard to where Jan was kneeling,
cradling her husband's head. She was weeping as they gently pulled her away and
began administering to him. She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking,
standing close by, all thoughts gone from her mind except one: Please, please
do whatever you can to bring him back. Please. The two paramedics, a young guy
and an older woman, worked for what seemed like fifteen minutes but really was
closer to just one or two. Curious neighbors started to come outside, watching.
The lights on the ambulance blinked a pulsating red and blue. Suddenly Jan
thought she saw one of Frank's fingers twitch. Then his whole hand. Her
emotions flooded over her and she had to catch herself. She nearly fainted. The
older paramedic stood quickly and went to her, putting an arm around her
shoulder.
"It's Ok," she said,
leaning down to make eye contact with Jan. "Your husband is alive. He's
going to be fine." Jan broke down weeping some more, turning her face into
the kind lady's shoulder. Tears of relief. Tears of joy. The lady paramedic,
whose name tag read Tina, patted her on the shoulder to comfort her and let her
take a few moments to collect herself. Then she said, "Let's go inside and
get you some tea, sweetheart." They started to move along the side of the
house toward the back yard. Jan was filled with a mixture of elation and heart
ache as she allowed the nice paramedic to escort her. As they passed by the
side of the house into the backyard toward the back door, Tina looked around
and commented, "Looks like someone likes to garden."
Jan was openly weeping, but was able
to smile through her tears. "That's my husband's," she said, making
an effort to respond. "He's the gardener."
Tina patted her on the shoulder as
they turned to the back door, opening it to go inside. "I'm sure they're
beautiful, dear," she said. "And don't you worry. He'll be back
outside in no time."
Jan needed something to believe in.
Why would the paramedic lie? She looked back around the yard and envisioned all
the flowers coming to life this spring and summer, blooming and adding so much
life and color to the world. She saw Frank out in the yard, planting annuals in
with the perennials. He saw him on his hands and knees working in the soil,
weeding and enjoying being out in the sun. She saw herself in the kitchen
watching him, making some ice tea to take out to him for them to share, sitting
side by side in their lawns chairs, looking at the gardens, talking, being
together and sharing the life they had with each other. She saw all of these
things clearly and distinctly. She looked at her, "You're sure?"
Tina met her eyes straight on.
"Without a doubt." she said. "Honestly. Without a doubt."
Jan sighed. Relief? Maybe. Emotional
exhaustion? Surely. They went inside and Tina sat her down at the kitchen
table. Jan started running through her mind all of the things she had to do.
Her husband would need her full time help. The Tina said that it looked like he
had a stroke. The days ahead would tell them how severe. For now it looked like
he had every chance of making a nearly complete recovery. Tina told her all of
this before going back outside to her partner, leaving Jan inside to focus on
making some tea. But she never even began making it. The last thing she wanted
was tea. She wanted Frank. She went back outside and stayed with her husband,
watching the paramedics make him comfortable on a gurney before hoisting him
into the ambulance. The hospital was a fifteen minute drive away. She was going
to ride along.
As she climbed in and was getting
adjusted to the cramped space, Frank opened his eyes again. She reached for his
nearest hand, now attached to a drip line, and said, "Just rest, dear.
You're going to be Ok."
Frank started blinking and then wet
his lips. "Ay ith e?" His voice was weak, barely a sigh.
She was getting used to his limited speech
now. "Yes, Frank, I'll stay with you." She very gently caressed his
hand.
They were quiet for a moment. The ambulance
pulled out heading for the hospital, siren wailing. Jan felt the shift and sway
to the vehicle. Frank opened his eyes again, the slightest of smiles on his
face. He was trying so hard. Jan looked at him. He was struggling to say
something. Jan willed her husband to just rest. But he wasn't ready for that.
Finally he got the words out. "A ar en," he said. "Id ou ee a ar
en?" He closed his eyes again, exhausted.
Jan leaned closely, whispering in
his ear. "I did," she said, "I saw the garden. I saw the new
bulbs." She blinked to hold back her tears, willing herself to be strong.
"We'll get you better and get you back home real soon so you can see them.
See the new bulbs, and the new flowers and the gardens growing." She
paused and then added, "They're going to be beautiful, just you wait and
see." Jan had no idea if her husband could hear her, but Frank closed his
eyes, his face relaxing as if he had. Just get better, she added to herself,
like a whispered prayer.
By now they had made their way to
the hospital, a huge and bustling complex. The ambulance pulled into the Emergency
Entrance and the paramedics got ready to take Frank in. Orderlies in blue
hurried to assist them. Frank squeezed Jan's hand weakly before letting go. She
followed behind as the gurney was unloaded and quickly wheeled through the heavy
swinging doors. She glanced back outside just once before walking in, catching
a glimpse of something growing along the wall right outside the entrance. Some
sort of flowers. They looked like what Frank had planted. There were further
along than his and were blooming a pretty, buttery yellow. Daffodils, she
thought they were. She rushed on inside, the doors swinging shut, the concern
for her husband softened momentarily by the color of those flowers, so vibrant
and so alive, growing and flourishing in the warmth of the bright springtime
sun. And becoming, as she ran toward the gurney, like a colorful, flowery bouquet
in her mind, full of hope for her husband that one day he would come home and be
outside with his own flowers, working the soil and planting more gardens, and
all of this hospital chaos happening here, right now would be but a far and distant
memory. Was it a naive kind of hope? Who knew? But it was the one thing she felt
she could do right now, to keep that hope alive for her and her husband and
their future and their life together. If Frank's gardens helped that hope turn
real and gave both of them the strength to help him to get better, so be it.
Who was she to argue with life's mysteries?
Up ahead Tina was leaning over Frank, saying
something to him. She turned and caught Jan's eye and motioned for her to
hurry. She did.
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