Mémère’s hands are gnarled tree knots. She cannot hold a paintbrush.
“I will paint les cerisiers for you,” I tell Mémère.
“À Bientôt! See you soon!” We leave the nursing home.
At home, I sketch.
The cherry trees look like mounds of cotton candy sweetening the hills. But my drawing is not right.
The wind rushes, sending waves of fuchsia racing towards me. I breathe in deeply–and get an idea!
I collect petals.
When we return to the nursing home, Mémère is sleeping. I sprinkle petals everywhere.
Mémère opens her eyes. “Qu’est-ce que c’est? What is this?” Even her eyes smile.
I work on a new painting at home.
I finish my masterpiece, but I’m not in time to give it to her. “Au revoir, Mémère.”
A tear spreads on my painting.
Hmmm…
I turn the tear into my memory: Mémère and I…sitting together…painting our cherry blossoms.
(gif from giphy.com)
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