Zinnias
August 10, 2020
So many thoughts upon returning to Texas. I didn’t miss the heat. The zinnias, which mysteriously appeared in my front yard before we left, equally mysteriously continued to be glorious. My hair is so long now that I’m wearing hair clips just so I can see. (I didn’t have time to do another bang trim in Ohio).
The drive home was more gruesome than the drive there. Somewhere on I-40 west of Memphis, COVID rage merged with fuck-all-y’all libertarianism, and the drive devolved into just trying to avoid being killed by assholes.
In two weeks, we pulled off a massive job of clearing out 50 years of living from Gretchen’s parents’ house. Every morning we put together a plan for the team, went for a walk in the park, and then came back and got to work. I feel like we honored her parents in the process. Grandma would have loved seeing her daughters and granddaughters pulling toward a common goal together. It was in fact one of her dreams. Sadly, one sister declined to join the team, but that was just as well.
Part of me wished we’d talked a bit more about our memories in the house, but we were working hard almost every minute of the day. There was a lot to get done and the more we did, the more we saw we needed to do. I wished we’d had a few days just to read and enjoy the cool and the green and the stunning view looking east from the house—the endless rows of corn stretching out to the horizon, the way the sun and shadows played on them at sunset, the glorious sunrises. I thought often of Gretchen’s mother sitting at her desk with her morning coffee looking out at this view, and, as Gretchen’s sister remarked, getting a ton of paperwork finished before her husband was ever out of bed.
It was satisfying work. Leaving, we locked up, knowing we’d never see that house again, having made a new set of memories to take home with us, and feeling a bit of everything—exhaustion, grief, wistfulness, appreciation, and maybe even closure.
Oh. Funny thing. You know those zinnias that I didn’t plant in my yard and that are blooming like crazy? Zinnias were Gretchen’s mother’s favorite flower.
How ‘bout that.
©2021 Joy Cunningham