The Sun’s Flower

The sun winked at Rosalie. That’s what it did. Though she didn’t know it, of course. Suns aren’t supposed to wink at girls. Still, that was Rosalie. Anyone who knew her could see it bright as day. Petals danced in her footsteps. She wasn’t exactly like the other girls.

There were other clues, too. In adulthood she drew both animals and people who needed her nurturing. Flowers put on their best show for her. The world hummed sweet greetings wherever she went.

She took on new names. Wife, Mommy, Grammy, and finally Gigi. And for ninety years that great old sun winked at his little Rosalie. She saw it a few times, but though she learned much of the world and learned even about many hidden things that the world fails to see, her guesses at what she saw in those moments were only close to the truth. She knew that she loved feeling the sun’s gentle warmth on her skin when a day turned bright and she built a house of windows to honor his light. And when she listened, she… heard.

Her life was filled with challenges and triumphs and sorrows and joys, and eventually, one day Rosalie sighed her last breath. Generations of flowers, their roots still held in memory in the soil, shuddered. Generations of her own blood wished her well in her next journey while trying to soothe aching hearts at the thought that the stockpile of good memories they had of their Mom/Grammy/Gigi now would have to last, for there would be no more created. And the sun, oh the sun, that great old sun marveled once again at how quickly precious lights come and go.

He thought about what to do.

There is a music that suns share. It’s a wild sound to ears like ours but to the suns and planets it’s invigorating. Our great old sun added a verse for his special favorite Rosalie. The other suns paused singing so they could listen. The verse told the story of her life from start to finish. Included was his sorrow at her passing.

A silence filled the skies when he had finished. Then a distant voice rose up. A sun far away had their own story to share and another verse was added to the sunsong. On this went. Sun after sun sang of beloveds. Soon the sunsong of millennia had changed into something new.

Our great old sun found that he no longer felt as alone as he had before. He chuckled at her power to create, even after passing from his sight. He watched Rosalie’s friends and family continue to spread her kindness. He saw how green seemed to flourish wherever they went. Injured and lost animals continued to find shelter and safety with them. From his great height, our old sun saw clearly that petals still marked his Rosalie’s footsteps, just in new ways. He had to have a laugh at her cleverness for pulling off such a feat.

He sang the new sunsong to Rosalie’s children and grandchildren and great grandchildren. He winked at them as well and a few of them even raised their eyes with a thoughtful expression. He saw her light in them, in different ways, each. He told them tales that he had learned from the other suns in the hope that they might listen to him as Rosalie once had. And once or twice, he thought that maybe they did.

In loving memory of Rosalie,
who passed from the world this week
surrounded by family and love,
and her many many windows.