Orchids - September 18, 2010

She decided, with a flop onto her bed- the bed that dipped low in the middle from being so often lied on, she’d let the flowers die this Autumn. She wanted them to disintegrate and absorb into the ground. Become something else now, she thought.

    They were pink orchids. There were eight of them growing up from the earth and their stems were clipped gently to two sticks to hold them upright. The plant was potted with textured, thick soil, but she hadn’t studied the flowers so close as to know just what exact soil they grew from. They had been an unwanted gift.

    She used to water them every three days with a dirty mug full of ice and tap water. Sometimes, she’d stay crouched next to the pot and watch the ice melt into the dirt. “Just-add -ice orchids”, the tag had read. She never knew that there was such thing as flowers that thrived only on ice. She thought it sounded strange, but fitting. 

    Now they would die at her hands. The soil would never welcome another ice cube again. The fresh, pink color of the petals would grow faint and then brown. They would fall and gather around the pot like a shrine, mourning as the soil dried and turned to dust. She was disturbed by this thought, that she was entirely responsible for the life or death of these flowers. She would do away with the remains by tossing them into a bush behind her house.

    The baby was born when winter set onto the world, when the sun was dull behind a wall of clouds and the air was sharp in her lungs. She stood quietly by the window and rocked him to sleep in her arms, her eyes fixed on frozen world illuminated by pale light. She tucked his blanket closer to him as a cold draft came in through the glass and watched the fat snowflakes fall like dead petals from the sky.

    She had become something else now.

-Kortnee Tilson