3.27.21

 

             At fifteen I worked for a little while for a florist at a flower shop at one of the sprawling, cream-colored hotels on the Kohala coast. 

    I remember the arrival of the fresh flowers for the day, their wet leaves and broken stems scattered on the floor as they were unpacked, trimmed, and placed upright in containers of water; the smell of them, their soft petals cool in my hands. Music of every beat and shade  pulsed as the flowers were neatly and cleverly arranged by the young florist's capable fingers. Full trolleys of fresh flowers were wheeled along the halls to decorate the main lobby and for each event happening that day. The surf pounded under a blue sky, always a blue sky, and the hotel grass was short and spiky beside the tidy pathways, the aching hot sand shining in the sun.  Torches were lit in the quick dusk at the end of every day, and I wish I had the chance of living at least one of them over again, to fully savor being young, to rest in my restlessness and to enjoy each moment as it burned out swiftly against eternity. 

           Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them; While the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars, be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain.....

       Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.  Ecclesiastes 12: 1-2 and 6-7