When my old friend and neighbor Betty, moved into Haines Assisted Living, her niece cleaned out her house and sold it and some of us helped. Betty had been quite a gardender in her day, and her basement workbench was full of dirt and seedling trays and dry old amaryllis bulbs. It seems every Christmas I gave her one, but she already had last year’s and never told me. She liked the red ones best, and she usually had a couple of them on her sideboard by the dining table. The old ones typically had more leaves than blooms. Sometimes, they were all leaves. It was hard for Betty to leave her house. She made me promise to take her bulbs. I said I would, but I closed my eyes and tossed most of them. I kept one, because that way I wouldn’t have to totally fib when she asked me about her amaryllis. Of course I brought her a new one at HAL.
Betty could see spirits. She saw them dancing on her lawn. She saw a cat that lived with her for years. She said her mother saw the spirits of her grandparents when she was dying and spoke to them. We even went to a clairvoyant together so Betty could ask questions about her son and husband on the other side.
She promised to come back and tell me what it’s like over there. “At least give me a sign,” I said. Well, I have been looking, and I suppose wishing for one ever since. Isn’t half of faith in something more than meets the eye the willingness to expect miracles? Once, I was sure she was a heron, standing in the shallows staring at my house. But maybe she was that harrier, hovering a little too long right near me, or is she linked to that cheeky squirrel living in the garage? I don’t know.
Betty has been gone almost three years now. She lived at HAL about two years and died there. She still hasn’t walked into my living room like the captain in The Ghost and Mrs. Muir.
But the other day, Chip came up the cellar stairs holding a red amaryllis in full bloom. It was in an old yoghurt container with no dirt. “Why did you put this flower in the basement?”
I didn’t put a flower in the basement. And actually, we don’t have a “basement,” just a four foot tall concrete crawl space. There are no windows. I have to stoop low to drag canning jars or ice skates and other stuff stored seasonally under there out. I stuck Betty’s bulb in a dark corner years ago and forgot about it. No water. No dirt. No love.
The flower was big and bright, two blooms, but the stem was white and floppy. It had had no light. It couldn’t hold its head up so I cut it and put it in water.
Maybe the bulb had bloomed in the dark before and we never noticed it.
Maybe.
I hope not, don’t you? Wouldn’t it be something if this really is a sign from Betty?
We are rapidly gaining daylight now. Cruising past eight hours just this week. My light is returning in more ways than one.
And that bulb? I can’t wait to see what it does next year when I actually take care of it.
