Just sharing a little piece of fiction I wrote a few years ago. Rediscovered it today. I forgot what I used to write like, I guess; I didn’t recognise it at first. Hope you like it. -VEL
One Hundred Little Things
Jane would claim that she did not believe in signs, but a sign was what she was looking for, waiting for. Some way of knowing that her mom was okay. Some small acknowledgment that she’d arrived safely. Some small… something.
She’d been thinking in figure eights over her mother, her mother’s passing, and what lies beyond mortality since just before Thanksgiving last year.
Now it was Spring. The grass was growing in perfectly. The trees greened up. The soil was warm and soft.
Jane’s mother left her The Garden.
It was much larger than it had been when Jane was a child. When she first took a look at it, she thought, More work. She didn’t think she could do it; she’d been tired for months. Watching someone die is hard work.
Jane went back and forth on forgetting about the garden altogether this year (What’s the big deal if I skip it this one time?), or cutting it in half. “You’re so freaking lazy,” she said to the mirror one morning.
Each day, tired, achy and sad, Jane forced herself out of bed and into the sun. She planted. She watered. She fed. She thought… sometimes, out loud. The circle of thoughts always came back to her need for some kind of reassurance regarding her mother’s safe passage to Heaven… or whatever was out there.
Jane felt emotionally and physically stronger from the gardening. It was the fresh air and exercise. The feeling she got from it reminded her of when she was young –
… And I woke up one morning and the strep throat wasn’t there anymore. The fever broke. I was hungry. I wanted to go outside and play.
She donned her ratty garden gloves, and grabbed a plastic shopping bag on her way outside. Weeding today.
Jane was on her knees, bent over the cucumber patch when a yellow and black butterfly landed on her left hand. She stilled herself and thought, How pretty.
She was wondering how long it would stay when its twin came down from out of nowhere and perched on her right hand. It was a tickling sensation.
Jane bit her bottom lip to keep from giggling. She was afraid to move, now, but slowly lifted her head. Another yellow and black butterfly landed on her forehead. What the –?
Oh, my God, she thought as a large flock of butterflies headed toward her, a fluttering cloud of flame and smoke. They flew about her head and shoulders, and landed all over her, tickling her. Within minutes, the butterflies were gone. Funny, she thought, lightly rubbing her arms. Feels like they are still on me.
She lifted her face to the sky and smiled.
“I just needed one small thing,” Jane said, “and you! You give me a hundred little things.”
samspeeps 