A Memory of Selskia
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"This one is a snapdragon," she says, pointing out a spray of red-orange

flowers sprouting from a single stem.

 

Lady Maylea's realm is wonderful.

Lush with colour and life.

 

I peer at it, before looking back up at Momma.

 

It's strange how we're just about the same height now--

she used to be so tall!

But 'Da is even taller, and-

 

"And over here, a tiger-lily!" she exclaims with a laugh, bending to

brush her nose against the petals.

 

A buzzing begins somewhere in my chest.

A vibration that will find it's way to my lips.

I ignore it.

I am trying to memorize all of the flowers.

 

The buzzing breaks my concentration and the curiosity finds voice,

"And Lady Maylea made -all- of these?"

All around me the flowers seem to bend in, as if listening.

A kaleidoscope of colours.

A dazzling array.

 

"Every last one," she smiles, but doesn't smile, as she brushes a hand

against a particularly bright red, bell-shaped blossom with a dark

centre. "Every last one."

 

I don't know that smile yet.

I memorize it like a new flower.

No name.

 

Momma's distracted again.

Eager for her attentions, I seek out a bright blue bell-shaped blossom,

one that's been familiar since I can remember.

"And this is a bluebell, your flower!" I exclaim.

 

That brings the real smile back and I try to mirror it to solidify the moment.

 

"Have I ever told you about my Lady Maylea's first flower?"

The joy is back in her voice.

 

I've heard the story a billion times.

I listen to it again.