Welcome to end to the night. I'm Nari, your guide on to day's
excursion down a twisted path. Be careful not to get lost. Be it
dark or light, it's easy to lose your way. Are you ready?
Then let's begin? How does your garden grow? Part? One? For
as long as she could remember, Mary Reynolds loved plants. When she was
a little girl, she watched her mother care for the flowers and vegetable gardens
on their property, and she delighted in helping any time she could. She
learned early how to tell the difference between weeds and desired plants, and soon
her mother trusted her to tend the gardens alongside her. Mary, you have
a natural knack for growing things. Young Mary would smile and bask in the
attention her green thumb gave her. She loved the time she spent with her
mother, and as an added reward, her mother planted Mary's favorite flowers and
vegetables. Your bachelor buttons are coming along nicely, aren't they. The bright
blue flowers brought a whimsical feel to the little girl's garden patch. Yes,
mamma, they make me happy. Colleen Reynolds didn't mind indulging her daughter's love
for flowers. She loved them herself, as had her mother and grandmother,
and she delighted in the joy Mary found in them. It's good for a
person to nurse her plants and to dig in the soil. It keeps us
connected to the earth, and too many children these days don't get outside enough.
Mary didn't know much about other children, but it made her sad to
think that not everyone bonded with nature the way she and her mother did.
Say my nursery rhy Mamma. Colleen smiled at her little girl and took her
by the hand, swinging it as she recited the poem Mary Mary contrary,
How does your garden grow with silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids all
in a row? Mary giggled, and Colline wiped a wisp of hair from
her daughter's face. Only you are a very good girl, and not contrary
at all. Colleen put her arm around Mary. Now, how about we
go inside and get lunch started. Mary nodded happily and skipped alongside her mother
as they walked across the lawn to their farmhouse. Mary hopped up each of
the porch steps while Colleen patiently held her hand and waited on her to make
it all the way to the wooden wrap around porch. The little girl looked
over her shoulder for one more view of her flowers. Bees and butterflies flitted
from blossom to blossom, and a gentle breeze carried the earthy smells of fresh
dirt and early summer. Mary watched the breeze move through the leaves on the
basswood tree. Its boughs waved back and forth. She smiled and waved back.
Colleen held open the screen door. Come on, let's get you inside.
Do you want to help me make cinnamon rolls after lunch? This caught
Mary's attention. Cinnamon rolls are my favorite. I happen to know that.
The two of them laughed, and Mary made another hop up the step into
the house to the kitchen. My little hoppy frog. This made Mary even
happier. She loved frogs and didn't mind the comparison one bit. Now as
an adult, Mary treasured those care free childhood days for the rest of her
life. I was lucky to grow up in the country with a mamma who
devoted herself to me. Not everyone gets to enjoy a simple, happy childhood
like mine. Warm days working in the garden or picking wild flowers in a
field, making cinnamon rolls or cookies, and having the freedom to just be
a kid. Those are experiences every child should have. She stood on the
wooden porch, remembering countless childhood memories spent on the farm. Nearly all of
them were Goody brought about many changes, however, and now her mother was
ill. Colleen's decline was the most difficult change to accept. At eighteen,
Mary left home to attend college. She'd married at twenty two and divorced at
thirty two. She'd lived many places, but this was always home. Carrying
for Colleen in the house she grew up in was not what Mary had expected
to be doing at this point in her life, but it was where she
was supposed to be. I'm so glad I have a career that allows me
to work remotely. Mom has done so much for me, and I need
to be here during these last difficult years for her. It's where I belong.
She looked out over the farm. The red Yankee barn stood starkly against
the blue sky. The basswood tree at the far end of the side yard
loomed large. Its canopy of branches provided shade for her as a little girl,
and it still made the wooden yard swing beneath it look inviting. The
vegetable garden was smaller than usual this year, but Mary couldn't worry about that
right now. Between work and the care she gave to her mother, Mary
simply didn't have time to grow a large one. The flower gardens, however,
were a vibrant reminder of years passed. The blooms were in full glory
now, and Mary made a habit of bringing her mother fresh bouquets to brighten
her days. Her mother's voice had weakened in recent weeks, and Mary was
thankful they had thought of a way she could summon Mary for help. The
gentle tinkling sound in the background alerted her to her mother's call. The small
silver bell by the bedside was Colleen's signal to Mary that she needed help.
Sometimes she needed another dose of pain medication, Sometimes she simply wanted to talk.
Mary brought the bouquet of flowers she'd picked with her in a vase as
she entered her mother's room. The picture window sat slightly open, and the
curtains billowed in the breeze. The lilac paint on the walls matched the purple
hues and the floral duveay covering the bed. As sick as Colleen was,
she still found comfort in the beauty around her. Yes, mamma, it's
a lovely day outside. I can smell the freshly cut grass and the flowers
through the window. That breeze is wonderful. Colleen took a deep breath and
smiled. It's a beautiful day, mamma. I brought you a new bouquet.
Colleen sat up to smell the flowers. Those are gorgeous. Thank you.
The bachelor buttons she had a pretty splash of blue. Are you comfortable?
Do you want me to bring you anything to eat or drink? Colleen
patted the edge of the bed. No, I just want to spend some
time with my girl. You're in luck, then, because I would love
to spend time with you. They both chuckled. We've used that line for
years, and it's still true. Colleen squeezed Mary's hand. It will always
be true. She looked around at the plants filling nearly every corner of her
room. It makes me feel better to have them with me. This practically
looks like a flower shop in here. Maybe we could open one on the
side, She teased. I wouldn't want to part with any of them.
Each one is special. A tear escaped her eye. It's so sweet of
you, Mary, to make my room such a comforting place. You know
how much I love plants. I wish, Mary patted her mother's arm.
I know, Mamma, I wish you could garden again too. I'd love
to feel the dirt in my hands and the sun on my face. I
missed the shade of the basswood tree. I played under it as a little
girl, just like you did when you were young. That tree has watched
over our family for a couple of generations. Colleene looked wistfully out the window.
From where she lay. She could see her favorite tree swaying in the
wind. Just look at how peaceful and inviting it is now. Mary had
a tear in her eye. We both love the base would very much.
I can't help but think that it loves us too. Colleen turned her head
and looked at her daughter. I do too, Mary. We're lucky to
have it here with us. Say, would you mind bringing me some soup?
I think I'm up to eating now. Of course, chicken noodle or
vegetable beef chicken noodle. After all, it's no one we knew. The
two women broke into laughter years ago. A farside cartoon brought that line into
their family vocabulary. Mary remembered the frame well. One chicken lay under the
covers in bed, and another stood in the doorway holding a tray with a
steaming bowl of soup on it. The caption read number one, it's good
for you. Number two it's nobody we knew. Mary and Colleen laughed many
times through the years over that one. I'll be right back with your soup.
Ten minutes later, Mary returned to Colleen's room. Her mother peacefully slept
with her face turned toward the open window. The breeze blew whisps from Colleen's
hair across her forehead, and her hand gently held a long vine that extended
from the philodendron's plant growing on the stand next to her bed. Its stems
and leaves intertwined with Colleen's fingers. A slight smile spread across the sleeping woman's
lips. Mary gently closed the bedroom door and turned to take the soup back
to the kitchen, sleep well and sweet dreams, Mamma. Mary leaned against
the wall and closed her eyes. If only there was a way I could
bring her back to health. She misses her garden and taking walks through the
countryside. It breaks my heart to see her so lonely for nature. Her
mother's sadness weighed heavily on Mary as she quietly walked down the hallway. Feeling
a bit hungry, she heated leftovers from last night's dinner and went to the
living room to relax and enjoy her meal. She turned on the TV and
flipped through the channels. A commercial, one of those pharmaceutical ads, caught
her attention. It wasn't the drug, she noticed, however, it showed
a smiling woman being pushed down a path to enjoy the outdoors. That's it.
I'll build a path from paving stones and we'll take Mamma for outings around
the farm in her wheelchair. Why haven't I thought of this before? Mary
made a list of the materials she needed. She knew it would be time
consuming and construction materials weren't cheap, but she had a plan. I'll build
it one section at a time. Mary went to the door to the porch
and looked out across the field. I know exactly where I'll built the first
path to the basswood tree. It's branches swirled excitedly in the wind. Yes,
sweet basswood tree, I'm excited too. Mary laughed aloud. If anyone
heard me talking to myself and the basswood, they cart me off to the
looney bin. She didn't care how silly she sounded, though. For the
first time in months, she knew of a way to brighten her mother's last
day. She may not have much longer, but I'm going to make sure
she's happy during the time she has left. After making sure Colleen finally ate
her bowl of soup, Mary reheated for her. She hugged her mother good
night and went to bed. Visions of the projects she had planned played through
her mind as she drifted off to sleep. Thank you for joining me for
this episode of the Into the Night Anthology podcast. Written by Caroline Giamanco,
narrated by Nari Kwak. Theme music by Nico Rodriguez. All other original music,
sound design and editing by Omenhawk Studios. You can find our links in
the show notes. Into the Night is on your favorite podcatcher, so make
sure to like, subscribe, and leave a five star review to help other
excursionists to join us. I'll see you next time, and remember, whether
in the shadows or in the daylight, all twisted paths lead you into the
night. Into the Night Anthology is a creative typo entertainment production