The Language of Flowers

One morning, she woke up to the happy chirping of birds that were sitting on her balcony. She was tenderly roused from the depths of her slumber by the delicate music that appeared to weave itself into the fabric of the dawn and drift into the air.

She felt the chilly, smooth wooden floor beneath her bare feet as she stretched under the warm cocoon of her blankets and stood up, drawn inexorably to the double glass doors leading to her balcony. The doors' smooth, contemporary metal frames glistened in the early morning light, casting a gentle, silvery sheen across their surfaces that created a peaceful atmosphere. Leaning against the railing, she pushed them open and stepped out, the cool air kissing her skin. A few steps away was a majestic tree, its bark etched with the rough lines of innumerable seasons, its huge trunk rising like a pillar of old strength. With clusters of tiny bird nests nestled among the vivid green foliage, its sprawling branches rose in a magnificent arc. She smiled, her lips opening to sing a gentle, melodic greeting to the tree, the sight filling her with warmth. Her sweet and clear voice blended with the birdsong to create a melody that seemed like a gift to the conscious world.

The tree then reacted in a moment of sheer awe. With an elegance that belied its strength, a robust branch with a rough, green-barked surface reached out toward her. With a gentleness that made her heart skip a beat, it coiled around her waist and lifted her over the balcony. The cool wood against her skin, the slight creak of the branch under her weight, and the rush of wind as she climbed many stories into the air were all thrilling sensations. She let out a bright, uncontrolled laugh as the tree gently placed her in the middle of a complex labyrinth made of the surrounding greenery and its expansive canopy. Every step was cushioned by the soft, moss-covered earth beneath her feet. Dappled patterns danced across the winding trails as sunlight seeped through the leaves above. She started sprinting with a sudden elation, her bare feet softly scuffing the uneven ground as her laughter reverberated through the branches like a song unto itself.

Just past the boundary of the maze was the forest, with its thick stand of trees calling to her with a timeless, peaceful charm. Her pace quickened with enthusiasm as she ran toward it, and soon she was skipping past the tall giants.

Their branches interlocked overhead to create a canopy that let only slivers of sunshine through, and their gnarled, velvety moss-covered trunks loomed like silent sentinels. Beneath her feet, the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig blended with the earthy aroma of pine and damp dirt. The woods parted to show a broad, open meadow, and she walked with easy grace, stepping over twisted roots and ducking under low-hanging branches. Here, the grass was thick and welcoming, a bright green flecked with bright yellow, purple, and white wildflowers. The coolness was calming across her skin as she fell onto the soft blades and started humming a low, sweet tune. As she looked up at the endless blue sky framed by the swaying treetops, she felt the weight of her worries lift for the first time in days.

A miracle happened when her humming filled the air. As though called by her music, flowers blossomed all across the meadow, their fragile stems thrusting through the ground in vibrant bursts, their petals unfolding. The delicious, thick scent surrounded her, and she briefly lost herself in the splendor of it all. The image then evoked a memory—of Julian. A searing anguish that sank deep in her chest replaced her happiness, which was extinguished like a candle in the wind. She sat up, stroking the fresh flowers with her fingers, their delicate petals quivering under her pressure.

Why? Why had he been so harsh to her? Her beloved garden had been destroyed by his sudden and brutal attack on her plants. It had happened as her heart was hesitantly reaching out after years of grief and loneliness, just as she was starting to trust again. She reasoned that he could have at least pretended to be nice, disguising his true intents with a pleasant remark or a fake smile. But no—a falsehood to lessen the shock is worse than the unvarnished truth, no matter how terrible. Remorse swirled in her mind. What had made her trust him? Her eyes filled with tears, which trickled silently down her cheeks and caught the sunshine as they did so. Because a part of her still longed to see him despite everything he had done, a desire twisted with the pain of betrayal.

The name, Nolan, was a silent scream in her heart. I wish you were here, Nolan. All of this would not have occurred. He reminded her of the person who had once been her haven from the harshness of the outside world, and his recollection flooded her with feelings of loss and nostalgia.

She was crying uncontrollably now, soaking into the grass as she buried herself in her grief for both Nolan and her son, Darren. Her tears were a gentle contrast to the whispering air, and the meadow, which had previously been a peaceful spot, now bore the burden of her sorrow.

Then, close to where she lay, a light emerged at the edge of the grass. It intensified, a dazzling radiance that pricked her teary eyes. Three figures—a man, a woman, and a small child—rose from its center. Her heart was racing with shock, and she gasped. It couldn't be.

"Mom?" Darren spoke in a kind but worried tone. "Why are you crying, Mama?"

Bloom stood with her legs shaking under her. Darren, Seph, and Nolan were standing in front of her, their bodies glowing with a kind of celestial light. She could not believe her eyes as they exuded gladness, untarnished by the shadows of time or grief.

Nolan, who had always addressed her by her given name, exclaimed, "Liliana, why are you crying? It can't be for us, surely.

Her emotions were a jumbled maelstrom of delight, incredulity, and lingering grief, and when she attempted to speak, the words stuck in her throat. "But—but you're..."

"Dead? "Yeah, that we are," Nolan said, his green eyes glimmering with a merryness that was familiar to him. "Don't be sad for us, dear. We are content. You should have been too.

But I was to blame—" she said, her voice cracking.

"It wasn't," Seph interrupted, her voice resonating oddly, as though it were being delivered from a far-off world. "You believe we were unaware of the dangers? What transpired transpired. Rekindle your love and life. However, remember us, she continued with a lighthearted chuckle, "or we'll come back to haunt you!"

Bloom's face was streaming with tears, a bittersweet mixture of pain and relief. "I was unable to. Why are you here, exactly?

Nolan's smile softened as he took a step closer. "Because, dear, you wished it." You've only yearned for your own death up until now. That is much less likely to be granted by the gods.

"The gods?" Her thoughts reeling, she muttered.

"Mama," Darren remarked, his chuckle brilliant and intelligent beyond his years, "we aren't figments of your imagination." "Observe." He held out his little hand, beckoning her with its dim glimmer.

Her fingers shook as they touched his as she extended her hand. Like a shaft of sunlight, he felt both tactile and immaterial; he was warm and present but unachievable. "Mama, don't worry about us," he added. On a nearby tree—a tree that shouldn't have had them—flowers bloomed when he smiled, their petals a bright reflection of his happiness. "Live and love again, as Daddy and Auntie Seph say." We will keep you safe. His eyes gleamed and his dimples deepened. "Mama, you are loved."

Her voice was full of emotion as she replied, "I love you too, sweetheart." How could her son, who looked so little, have such profundity in his speech?

A little seed emerged from Darren's clinched fist. "I discovered this. It's for you. She picked it up and held it in her hand. It's a lily, according to Daddy, that only grows where we reside. Like your eyes, it is purple.

Her voice trembled as she said, "Where do you live?"

Nolan moved in and kissed her cheek, giving her a quick, breath-of-air warmth. "Within your heart," he whispered. Subsequently, the trio took a step back, their shapes melting into the bright light. Bloom's last glance was of their happy faces, full of a joy she hadn't experienced in a long time.

She examined the seed she was holding. A little green shoot, delicate yet living, appeared when her tears dropped upon it. Finally free of burdens, her heart rose. Her steps were light with fresh purpose as she turned and rushed toward the manor, smiling through her tears, eager to find a pot for this priceless gift.