by Tye beau
Mac meets and talks with death
Death once told me over a warm cup of Earl Grey that she was like a wizard. She's never later or early. She arrives exactly when she needs to. Which at first is kind of cute to know that Death reads Tolkien but it gets a little frustrating when she decides to be late for our weekly tea visit. I shouldn't blame her. The Power has a lot of responsibilities but at this point, she is the only one of my kind I can still talk to.
I pruned a little too much of my lily. Being angry while gardening is not the best attitude. I glance at my sprawling garden. I let a tinge of proud out as my eye wanders across the kaleidoscope of colors. My housing development was in a seedier part of the city and to be fair I took great pain in making sure my apartments appeared to be in disrepair. One it kept out anyone thinking there was anything of value this far into the crappier part of town. Two, it meant that no one bothered to check the roof.
Where most building roofs looked bare with exhaust pipes and AC units, mine was a different story. Plants of all shapes and sizes dominated the outer edges of the roof. The center I kept for my true garden. Tomato plants, growing along pallets that I'd refashioned to be a plant holder (bless you Pinterest1). I split the roof into three following the U shape of my building. The left for plants that played well together. The center was reserved for the more aggressive breeds like potatoes and squash. The right was for experimenting and currently housed only peppers. It was my own personal garden of Eden. Except without pesky mortals running around eating my favorite snacks.
My stomach rumbled at the thought of snacks and I couldn't help taking a peek at what Maggie was making for our tea date. I let my eyes slip shut as I opened the faith bond we shared. My mind wandered along the bond. I floated down through the building to our shared apartment. Maggie, now seventy, was bustling around our small kitchen.
Today she wore a simple white tee shirt with a cute light brown summer vest. Her usual jeans replaced by a flowing ankle length skirt. Her silver hair tied in a neat bun, held firm as she hummed and nodded along to Queen's fat bottomed girls. My Mags, aged like fine wine. Her energy still thirty years younger than what her age would recommend. Todays treat would be a simple fruit salad paired with green tea. Something easy for our stomachs and light on our palates. I returned to my body with a slight frown. The last few days had been draining for the both of us. Her cancer being more persistent and aggressive than I was used to. It took more faith than I was comfortable giving.
I raised my shear to finish pruning only to find the lily dead and wilted. I suppressed a sigh,"I know I pruned it a bit short but killing? Really?" I turned to greet Death. She was a young woman. Somewhere in her late twenties, a tie di shirt barely reaching her waist. Her bleached jeans currently engaged in a losing battle with an invisible cheese grater. She let her blond hair fall naturally to mix with her bronze skin and green eyes. I had to admit she was beautiful. She detested the constant black hair, pale skin, and gothic look she was constantly being portrayed as. So she took a small bit of pleasure in being lively and colorful.
"I feel like I should say something poetic or symbolic like 'sometimes the smallest choice can lead to an early grave' but really I just like watching you get defensive over your flower babies." She bent over to smell my budding star gazer lilies. “I’ve always loved the star gazers.”
Her faced dropped a little. My brow furrowed in a