Chapter 1. In the lavender garden
I kissed him on his shoulder instead of words. That morning the sky was giving to the burning July Sun an invisible curtain. I got up quietly and I turned off the alarm before it started to sound. I looked at him and my meditation has began with contemplating him, the man that reflects me. I feel his deep breath and just whispered softly into his ear touched by the Sun “Thank you for choosing me and choosing to stay”. The warm murmur is bringing him a rosy smile while I am walking my fingers on his skin, feeling his presence, and digging deep into the now. He catches my hand and kisses it, leaving on it the trace of his lips.
“I lay down for a little longer. I love you.” He said.
Getting up towards the balcony I realised that yes, I was complete. I lifted my hand up towards the sky breathing the heat, putting my hands in prayer, connecting to myself, to the source I was owing what I had chose to live. To God.
“The open door will bring in some fresh air”, I thought, and bouncing on my tippy toes, I am sneaking out of the bedroom. An infinite happiness, my lesson of unconditional love that I receive everyday, touches me, hitting my sleepy legs just like a childish gong.
“Good morning, Adhira!“ And I bend over to play with her fur, hugging the little soul in my arms. “Just a little longer and you are going to break my back, little wrinkle!”.
Adhira was my sweet little girl, a chocolate Shar pei puppy who was enchanting our days. Climbing down the stairs with her, I was pampering myself in her coat while she was biting my fingers lovingly.
“Morning, my little Sofia!” I heard my grandma’s voice with her authentic accent.
“Good morning, grandma.” I dashed to hug her and kissed her on her head.
”Enough, enough”, she said, bursting into laughter. My grandma started the morning with the sweet, but hilarious jokes regarding her pronunciation.
She came to us two weeks ago, as missing her could not be compensated any longer by any technological intermediary. Few days during which I could exchange “my youth” for her WISDOM seemed to me a must-do in my attempt to hold her there for a little longer, although I knew that another calling was about to come. This was the last day of her stay here and the smell of freshly baked strawberries cake was warning me that our breakfast was to be a delightful show of tempting fruits and vegetables.
With tones of patience and thriving to get over the tatar quadruped that was secretly jumping to steal pieces of fresh carrot – her secret passion, I was setting with my grandma the mobile table, choosing the morning health.
“The lavender garden?” I ask her, craving for the childhood time, when I used to run to the flowers garden to have lunch with her.
Nodding, I grabbed the moving herd and through her restless tail I walked in my lavender garden, which was anchored by a white wooden table around which we were spending lazy sunny days, surrounded by a purple fragrance and the pure colour of the gratitude. Bare foot, I smiled at my grandma:
“I am so grateful we are here, together!”
We sit down listening how the fragrance of freshly roasted strawberries has woken up our Lazy the First of the house, on a Saturday morning.
“Rise and shine! I’ve heard, or smelled, that the breakfast is outstanding.” With a wide smile and his insightful look, he comes in the garden like a restful child. He kisses my grandma on her forehead and then he playfully sticks his lips on mines, giggling:
“Love, still love, even at nine in the morning.”