I opened the door of my loyal 20-year-old truck and picked up a bouquet of flowers from the back seat. There are many flower vendors near the cemetery, but I always purchase from a little old store near my mother’s old home.
The owner was my mother's friend, and she knew that every 2 weeks I was coming to visit her so she would put extra effort into making a nice bouquet for Mom, with her favorite flowers. I always offer to pay the full price, but in the same way, she always refuses, only allowing me to pay half of it. I wasn't going to argue, she was one of my mom's best friends, and still had those watery eyes when she saw me walk in to get the usual arrangement.
"Morning sweetheart, I got your special package waiting for you, just give me a minute, and I will go get it from the back." She was just adorable; her daughter was so young, barely 17 and was already inserted in the family business. She smiled at me and waved from her corner where she cut and removed the base thorns from each rose, so it would be manageable to handle for anyone who bought them. I waved back and then welcomed the nice bouquet in my hands, getting into the usual argument about how much should I pay.
The day was gray; I shrugged it since I didn't really care, I was really down this weekend. I had a huge argument at work with my supervisor. He had been pushing me beyond what was legal to work extra hours and wanted me to dedicate also the weekends. Sometimes I would comply, this time I refused. It had been only a year since mom passed away and I was still sensitive about her. We were a pair, a duo, partners in crime, always together. So when he asked me to go for some extra work hours on Saturday I plainly refused. We had a really big argument, the security guy came to check twice, and our director walked in to stop us.
Today was mom's day, only us. I pulled a blanket next to her cold stone and rested the new flowers after putting the old dried ones in a disposal bag. I sighed and felt the silence take over before I put a smile on my face and opened a bottle of my favorite wine, the only one I ever drink. I am not usually a wine person, but mom showed me this treasure years ago, and I have had it in my stock ever since. This rare white wine was the sweetest thing you could ever taste. My bottle of Late Harvest was all I needed.
I sighed again. "I am sorry Mom, this week was hard. Remember the idiot I told you about from work? He did it again. He wanted me to go work extra hours today, but don't worry, I said no. It's our day after all."
In the distance, I heard some thunders threatening to make the weather worse. I shook my head and put it between my hands; a small sob giving room to a bigger one and tears started rolling down. A honk brought my head up, I saw a small progression of cars not far from where I was, and they were moving slowly to an area that seemed classier and more expensive. I turned my attention to my mom and caressed the stone that laid on top of her remains. "I miss you, mom," I whisper as I lay on the blanket next to her. I closed my eyes as more tears threatened to come out.