6/13/2012
Simon and Yellow Roses
When
Simon woke up, he remembered that Christmas was just a few days away and he hadn’t
bought a gift for his Mom. Scrambling
into his clothes, Simon knew that he was going to have to hurry if he was going
to earn some money today.
“Where
do you think you’re going?” Simon’s Father asked. Simon was headed for the back door where his
winter coat was hanging on a peg.
“Sit
down and eat your mush. Cuz if you don’t
eat it now it’s gonna be real tasty by dinner time.” Simon’s Father shouted.
“I’m
not hungry right now. I got to go out.”
Simon said with a quaking voice.
“Well
see if I care what ya do.” His father snarled at Simon without ever looking up.
Simon
hurriedly put on his winter coat and hat, which were both threadbare and too
small. As a growing 10 year old boy,
Simon’s Father didn’t see any reason to spend much money on clothes. Once outside, Simon pulled his wagon from
behind the bushes where he kept it hidden out of sight from his Father. The wagon had been a gift from his mother and
it was the best gift he’d ever had. He
remembered when it was new, all shiny bright red steel with a black handle and
big black tires. Thinking back, Simon
remembered the thrill he had felt as he opened up his gift and found the
beautiful wagon. Now the wagon was old
and rusty and there was a lot of bailing twine keeping it together but Simon
was determined to keep it forever.
Simon
learned at an early age, which of his neighbors enjoyed drinking. He also knew which ones might occasionally
offer him a few cookies or leftovers from a party. Simon knew charity when he saw it but when
you are hungry, you are hungry and refusing help didn’t put anything into your
stomach. As Simon walked through the alleys near his house he was delighted to see
that the trash and recycling hadn’t been picked up yet. Behind Mrs. Webster’s house, Simon hit the
mother lode in bottles. Must have been quite a
party Simon thought as he gathered up bottle after bottle from the recycling
bin into his wagon.
Next
stop was Mr. O’Malley’s house where you could always count on getting lots of bottles.
While it wasn’t talked about, everyone in town knew that Mr. O’Malley had a
fondness for beer and there was always a large stash of bottles piled up behind
the house. Today was no exception. Silently, Simon prayed “Please Lord let
O’Malley keep drinking beer forever.” “Or,
if you can’t do that, at least until I’ve got me some money saved up.”
With
just those two stops the old wagon was full of dirty smelly bottles but Simon
did not let that keep him from continuing on his mission. The only thing he could smell was money.
Once
inside the recycling center, Simon stomped his feet to get his blood moving and
moved closer to the little heater that Mr. Owen kept near his desk.
“Morning
Mr. Owen. I did real well today. I’ve got 17 beer bottles for ya today from
Mr. O’Malley, and I got 12 bottles of some kind of fancy drink from Mrs.
Webster’s house.” Simon said proudly.
“Well
Simon, that is great.” Mr. Owen replied with a bright smile. “Let me tally this up for you real
quick.”
“Simon,
you’re in luck today. Today is
two-for-one Tuesday so I’m going to pay you double.”
“Double,
Mr. Owen?” Simon questioned. “I don’t
understand.”
“Well
son it works like this. I pay you for 34
beer bottles and 24 fancy drink bottles.
I just double your bottle count because it’s two-for-one Tuesday.” Mr.
Owen explained patiently. “Understand
now Simon?”
“Sure
do Mr. Owen. That’s great.” “How much do I get?”
“Well
says here on the calculator your totals comes to $19.67, but because it’s so
close to Christmas how about we make it an even $20.00? That be okay with you Simon?” Mr. Owen asked.
“You
bet Mr. Owen.” Simon responded by jumping up and down happily.
“Gonna
do something special with your money today Simon?” Mr. Owen asked politely.
“Yes
sir. I’m headed down to O’Flaherty’s Flower
Shop to get something for my Mom.” Simon answered.
“That’s
great Simon. Here’s your money and I’ll
see you next week.” Mr. Owen said as he
stood in the doorway thinking what a nice kid Simon was. Not too many kids would
be so generous.
Simon
ran down the street to O’Flaherty’s with his wagon banging into his heels with every step. Simon didn’t even seem to
notice that his heels were under constant attack from his now empty wagon. Nothing and nobody was going to get in his
way today.
Simon
pushed the door of O’Flaherty’s open and he inhaled the scent of all the different
flowers. The only flower that Simon knew
was a rose, his Mom’s favorite. The shop
was warm and very inviting and secretly Simon thought that the owner, Ms.
O’Flaherty would make a wonderful grandmother.
“Ms.
O’Flaherty, it’s me Simon.” he called out.
“I’m here to get something for my Mom and I got $20.00.” Simon continued
on happily.
Ms.
O’Flaherty came to the front of the store, smoothing down her pink apron and
wiping her hands on a towel she always had tucked in the waistband of her
apron. “So good to see you Simon.” “What
were ya thinking of getting today?” she asked seriously. I
don’t know the names of any flowers except roses. Can I buy Mom roses?” Simon asked.
“Of
course you can. Turns out this is
two-for-one Tuesday, so you’ll get double the amount of roses for your
money.” “How’s that sound, Simon?”
“Wow,
it was two-for-one Tuesday over at the recycling center today too.” Simon responded. “This is turning out to be a great day.”
“What
color roses do you want Simon?” Ms. O’Flaherty asked him while pushing her tiny
pink glasses back up on her nose.
“Let’s
have the yellow ones. Yellow is my Mom’s
favorite color.” Replied Simon.
“Yes
I know it is.” Ms. O’Flaherty carefully
wrapped up a dozen butter yellow roses in green paper and handed them to
Simon. Simon hugged the roses to his
chest and inhaled the beautiful perfume scent.
“Simon t hat
comes to $12.67.” “I don’t have
much call for yellow roses at Christmas time so I’m giving you the sale
price. I hope you don’t mind.” “There’s nothing wrong with the flowers at
all, I just won’t be able to sell them.” Ms. O’Flaherty said as she knelt down
to Simon’s height. “You take care of
yourself Simon.”
As
Simon left the store, he didn’t know that Ms. O’Flaherty watched him, not for
the first time, walk up the hill until he was out of sight. With tears in her eyes, she silently blessed
the small boy and wished for his happiness.
“Merry Christmas Simon” she whispered to herself.
After
reaching the top of the hill, Simon turned into the local cemetery and made his
way down to a grave. The grave was
marked simply “Mary Wilson, wife and mother of Simon.”
As
Simon slid down into the soft wet ground, the tears began to flow as he hugged
the small tombstone. He reached into his
wagon and pulled out the beautiful yellow roses and placed them at the top of
the grave.
“Merry
Christmas Mom.” Simon cried. “I brought
you roses – yellow ones – the kind you like and they smell real good.” “Me and my wagon worked real hard today. Did
you see how many bottles I got?” “Mom, I
miss you so much.” Simon continued to
cry as he clung to the cold tombstone.
“I love you.” And, for just a
brief moment, Simon knew he wasn’t all alone.
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