Grandfather's Columbine

Dear Grandfather,

Remember that columbine beside your patio? No, I didn't imagine you would. I don't remember it either. The last day I was at your house, getting the final few things I wanted and wondering how the hell I was supposed to live in a world without you, I saw a beautiful blooming columbine. It wasn't obviously part of a flowerbed, and I don't remember ever seeing it before, but there it was, bright and beautiful, slightly scraggly and wild-looking.

I dug it up, put it in a bucket, and brought it home with me.

This is not its first summer at my house, and it has never bloomed like it is blooming now. Maybe it's happy I moved that boxwood that was crowding it. Maybe the weather's been different in some way from past springs (besides the pollen--you would not believe my allergies this year; it's like nature is trying to kill me). I don't know. I just know that it's full of blooms and it is beautiful and I miss you.

I miss you a lot.

Love,
Bonnie