The Language of Sycamores by Lisa Wingate

Author:Lisa Wingate
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US

Chapter 14

I awoke early on the first morning of Jumpkids camp, filled with an excitement that both surprised and invigorated me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so filled with curiosity about what the day would bring. The last few years at Lansing had become so routine as the company declined and the corporate culture grew stagnant that the days lacked any sense of possibility. But today seemed to be filled with endless potential for new and interesting experiences, and I couldn’t wait for it to begin.

I made coffee and dressed, then stood on the porch and waited for the sun to rise. In the quiet gray morning hush, I walked among Grandma’s flowers, some already in bloom, and some just beginning to push from the damp soil. How many times I had seen her out there on her knees planting and pruning, handling tiny seedlings with a gentleness she seldom showed to people? We’re never really gone, she told me as we worked in the garden one day. We survive in the things we leave behind.

She survived in this flower bed, in the gardens of other people to whom she had given tiny seedlings, starts, and bulbs. All over the county there were people who remembered getting friendship flowers from Grandma Rose. There were neighbors to whom she had taken bouquets and casseroles when they were sick, babies for whom she had knitted afghans, and children she’d taught to make pies and quilts in 4-H class.

Everywhere I looked, there were things she had left behind, things that put her life in stark contrast to mine. What had I left behind that anyone would remember?

The yard gate squealed on its hinges and I turned to look, letting the question go unanswered as Dell came up the path. She was wearing denim shorts and a red T-shirt, her feet bare and her long, dark hair swinging back and forth. She raised her hand and waved, dangling a Wal-Mart sack that probably contained her shoes.

I was filled with a rush of love that surprised me. She must have seen it, because she smiled, her teeth white against her tanned skin, her eyes glittering.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered, as if she didn’t want to wake anyone else, so that this morning could be just for the two of us. “I’m nervous.”

“Me too, but I’m really excited. This is going to be so much fun. I couldn’t sleep, either. I’ve been up since four a.m.”

Giggling, she jittered in place, something I had never seen her do before. “Me too,” she echoed, then threw her arms out and slapped them around my waist in a hug so tight it pushed the air from my lungs in a soft Ooof.

I laughed, slipping my arms around her slim shoulders and resting my chin on top of her head. “We’re quite a pair.”

“Yeah.”

James was standing on the porch of the little house, watching us and smiling, his expression filled with a fondness that I knew wasn’t just for me.

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