Looking for the Red Bloom
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The night my papa left us; everybody was crying and a bit scared. My mama was crying, my sister was crying, my brother was crying, and I was crying. My papa loved us, but he said we weren’t in a safe country. He said he was going to find a better place for us. He promised that he was going to make it a good place, so that where he was, we could be there, too.
I asked him, “Papa, when will you be back?”
He asked me if I knew of the big bush with the shiny green leaves that was in the north corner of our 10-acre land.
I told him, “Yes, Papa, I know that bush. The leaves are beautiful, but I’ve never seen a flower on it.”
He smiled and lovingly picked me up and sat me on his lap. “Well, my beloved child, when you see that bush put forth a red bloom, you will know that my return in near.”
“I will watch every day, Papa. I promise.”
“Encourage your mama and sister and brother to watch,” Papa said. “And, one more thing. I will also tell this to your mother and siblings. No matter what, I am always with you right here,” and he tapped my chest just above where my heart is. “I am always thinking of you, and everything I will be doing will be for your best. Do you believe me?”
“Yes, Papa.”
He kissed Mama and whispered in her ear. He hugged my brother and sister and whispered in their ears. I knew he was assuring them as he had me. He gave us all a letter from him and told us that whenever we got weak or tired of waiting, we should read his words. Then Papa left.
Afterward, a strange thing happened. The wind began to howl, and reports of earthquakes began to appear everywhere over the land. It was like the land was rebelling because Papa was gone, and the trees, plants, animals, seas, and soil didn’t like his absence any more than we did.
Well, that’s what I told my family, and while my mama didn’t say anything, my brother and sister made fun of me and said I had a big imagination. I did, but Papa had always told me my imagination was a good thing. Of course, I believed what Papa said, so my brother and sister mocking me didn’t matter.
I waited a month before I began to travel to the back corner of our land. The bush was there, vibrant, waxy leaves, and as always danced in the sunlight, but I saw no sign of even the tiniest bloom. I sighed, but I was not discouraged. I sat in the grass and thought about my papa and wished I was with him.
At supper that evening, Mama asked me what I had done after my chores were finished. Before I could answer, my brother laughed and said I was “sitting down by that stupid bush.”
“It’s not stupid!” I yelled. “Papa said he would come back when the green bush in the north field began to bloom. So, I am watching, and I am waiting.”
“It’s been a month,” my sister said. “Don’t you think if he were coming back, he would be here by now?”
“I don’t know.” I was beginning to feel tears filling up my eyes.
“Don’t tease her,” Mother scolded. “I, too, in the dark hours of the night, hope your father soon returns.”
“Why don’t you come with me, Mother, and we can watch for the red bloom together?”
My mother smiled with that beautiful smile she has, which is why I am sure my papa fell in love with her. I heard Papa tell her once that she was the most beautiful among all women.
“You know, I think I will,” she said. “We will go together every day and look for the red bloom.” She looked at my brother and sister. “Do you want to go with us?”
My brother said, “No, after my chores, I have found a part-time job to help support our family since Papa left.”
“How about you?” my mother asked my sister.
“No, I have friends down the street, and we are forming a good friendship. I don’t want to be left out of that.”
Mother smiled and didn’t scold. She just said, “It is your choice.”
The days passed, and every afternoon, Mama and I would go to the green bush in the north field. We would sit, and we would wait. Sometimes, the wind would swirl gently around us, and we both felt renewed and refreshed in our waiting. Sometimes, the rain came, and we had to wait out the storm, but still, we looked and we watched.
About a year had passed, and a neighbor on an adjoining property began to notice our daily visits to the bush. He was curious and asked us what we are doing.
“I am waiting for my husband to return, and my daughter awaits her father. He went to get us a better home since this is not a good country.”
That man made me very angry. He laughed and said, “Lady, your old man deserted you and your brats a long time ago. Get it through your head. He ain’t coming back.”
I jumped up to tell him off, but Mother restrained me. She just smiled sweetly and said, “Well, we still wait because we believe what he told us, and we know he speaks only truth.”
Mother was very sad a few days later when she found out my sister’s best friend was that mean neighbor’s daughter, and that my brother was working for him to get money.
She said to them at dinner that night, “You are old enough to choose your own friends now. But, I would ask you not to spend your time with our next-door neighbor. He makes mockery of your father, and that is something you do not need to hear or see.”
“Mama, I don’t mean to be rude or disrespectful of our papa, and I remember him fondly. But, I think if he were coming back, he would have done so by now. We must just go ahead with our lives,” my sister said.
“Well, I’m beginning to believe what our neighbor says is true,” my brother said. “Papa just said that stuff to make himself look good. He didn’t want us to know he wasn’t what he said he was. He lied, and for all I know, maybe he was not my real father.”
Mama rarely raised her voice, but she did at my brother’s words. “You must never say such things. To do so puts doubt on me and your sisters and you. He is your papa, and he will return, and you need to be ready.”
“Well, if he ever shows up, let me know. I’ll be right next door at the neighbor’s earning a living, like he should have been doing.” With that, my brother got up and left the table.
I was angry at my brother, and my mama was very sad. But, my sister was the one who began to cry. “I am so confused,” she said. “I want to believe Papa will come back, but I am not sure, and I don’t know what to think.”
“Do you ever read the letter Papa gave you?” I asked my sister.
“I used to, but then, I got busy, and then, finally, after so long, it didn’t seem to matter anymore.”
“Sometimes, Mama and I take our letters to the green bush by the north corner, and we read them to each other. Would you like to come with us sometime?”
“Yes, I think I would like that,” my sister said.
The next day, we three went to the bush. But, before long, the neighbor came to mock, and my brother was with them. We bowed our heads and closed our eyes and waited for them to leave. Eventually, they did.
These episodes became a daily routine when we visited the bush and soon, we were able to ignore them and talk about the wonderful things Papa did when he was with us.
“Do you remember how he like to fish and would bring home wonderful trout or bass for our dinner?” my sister asked.
“Oh, I loved the way he would cook that fish and serve us,” I said.
“Yes, and I remember how he always checked to make sure our neighbors had food. Sometimes, I would worry we wouldn’t have enough for ourselves, but he would assure me that there would always be enough to eat at our table, and there was,” Mother said.
That day, the wind was especially tender and warm, and the three of us felt as if we might just be lifted off the ground.
“I am so ashamed I ever doubted,” my sister said.
Another several months passed. Our brother finally moved in with the neighbors and told us we would have to figure out how to get our food and other needs. We didn’t know what we were going to do. Mother grew a little garden, and when the electricity was turned off we used candles. These were difficult times, but we knew it would all be worth it when Papa returned.
Winter was harsh, but Mother and I visited the green bush every day. My sister came some days. Snow sat like whipped cream on top of the green leaves, but it was strange. They never turned colors, nor did the cold make them fall from their branches. We believed that was because that bush was special, and Papa knew that when he told us to watch it.
Finally, spring came, and we were so excited. After all, when do plants bloom? Of course, the springtime. The bush had not bloomed last spring, but we knew, we just knew it would this year. We went every day. We watched. We examined the stems, looking for a swelling, which would mean a bloom was about to burst through. We were so excited, and we had even realized that we should be ready when Papa came, so we always came to the bush with our letters and a small bag of necessities. Papa, we knew, would have everything else we needed.
Then, a very sad thing happened. Our neighbor brought his daughter to mock us. The daughter centered her ridicule on my sister.
“Wow! I thought you were smarter than that. That’s why I picked you for a friend. I figured you wanted the same fun and adventure I did. Not sit here by some stupid bush and waste your life away.”
I told her to shut up and go away, but Mama scolded me. “Your sister is the only one who can tell the girl to leave. This is her fight. We are with her, but she must do the battle.”
My sister walked over to the fence that was the boundary to our land. I told her not to go, but she wouldn’t listen.
The neighbor’s daughter continued. “Your father doesn’t love you. If he did, he would surely have returned by now, or he would have never left in the first place. Don’t be such a silly girl. You are so misled.”
My sister stood there for some minutes. I tried again and again to tell her to come back. The neighbor’s daughter began to whisper in her ear, things, Mamanor I, could hear.
Finally, my sister came and looked at my mother and me, and said, “I can’t do this anymore. I have been so gullible and ignorant. I do not belong here.”
She left, and she left her letter and her bag of personal belongings.
Mother and I cried. We wailed and cried for Papa to return and to bring my sister and my brother back. It was like he didn’t even hear, and for a moment, I doubted. After all, it had been so long. I could see the look of doubt on Mama’s face, too. But, then, I looked at the bush, and I remembered its vigilance through the winter’s snows. I remembered the warmth of the swirling wind, and I read, again, my papa’s letter. Mother did the same, and we encouraged one another that, indeed, we were doing what we were supposed to be doing.
I am an old lady now. Mama is still with me. I heard my brother had become a rich man and was much respected by the world, and, sadly, I heard that my sister’s friends had deserted her, and the last anyone saw of her, she was wandering the streets in a very cold city somewhere up north. And me? My body aches, and my back is bent. My hair is as white as the snow that comes every year. But spring follows the winter, and every spring, I hobble with Mama, and we are hopeful that this will be the season that the green bush in the north field puts forth a red bloom.