A woman rushed through the house. ”Where is my beautiful girl hiding?” she cried in a voice full of joyful expectation.
She found her in the kitchen, holding a cracked, old mug in her hands. A cloud of dark energy hovered overhead. A slow stream of hollow, grey spirits were moving towards it through the air. ”What happened, dear?” the woman asked worriedly.
”I… They… Somebody put grandma’s cup in the dishwasher. And… it didn’t survive.” The girl raised her head, looking forlorn and lost.
”Oh! But that was probably an accident.”
”Of course it was an accident! But the cup – it was a dear memory for me. I have so little left of her.”
The woman knitted her brows and then suddenly, her face cleared. ”Wait a minute!” she exclaimed and ran out of the house.
A short while later she came back again, carrying a small, sweet plant. ”Do you like it?” she asked the girl.
The girl blinked, confused, and regarded it closely. Delicate yellow flowers and clover leaves looked back at her…
”It’s beautiful,” she said at last, with a small smile.
”You know what? You can save it! The neighbour was just going to throw it out. We will plant it in this mug, give it some light and water… The cup will hold moisture well enough, and the cracks will allow the roots to breathe. And when the flower has grown strong, absorbing all these good memories from the mug, then you can plant it in the garden. And the love and good memories of your grandmother will never die.”
”Do you really think so?” the girl asked, wonder and hope in her voice.
”Of course, my dear! You know, I am not just your aunt…”
The girl hugged the woman. ”Oh, how I missed you, Auntie!”
”I missed you too, my dear,” the woman said softly, hugging the girl and smiling as she sensed the dark cloud dissolving overhead. ”I missed you too…”
As the dark cloud disappeared, motes of glittering energy began to bob and weave through the air in its place. The grey spirits hurried away, and small, beautiful, transparent sylphs started to dance through the room.
”Every time I look at the plant, I will remember grandma,” the girl whispered for herself.
Her aunt smiled.
Story: Elena Voroniouk © 2019, all rights reserved.