Essays: Red Daisies

 

Red Daisies

The old woman, with one hand on her chin, didn't care what was behind the glass in front of her. He was thinking of something with his eyes fixed on the glass.

"Red daisies," she murmured as she stroked the head of her cat in her arms. "There were also red daisies, right Milky?"

Milky wasn't white like its name. His paws and ears were black, and the circumference of one eye was brown. He was named not for his appearance, but from the milk himself that covered his fur whenever he tried to drink milk when he was a baby because it fell into the milk container.

When he heard his name, he raised his head a little and meowed at the old woman. Then he settled down firmly on the woman's knees to continue enjoying the morning grooming. The old woman's clothes did not smell as good as before. In the past, she used to wash her clothes, always dressed cleanly. Her laundry continued to be washed, but by another woman. Probably, she was doing her job sloppy too. Because the smell of flowers always came to Milky’s nose. The washed laundry couldn't smell its own smell and the old owner’s at all. It was taking time to get them to smell again...

The old woman had been confused for a long time. Sometimes he could not even know her neighbors. Then, when her name came to her mind, she could not remember why she went to their door this time too. Every morning when she woke up in her bed her mind was obsessed with something. That morning she was obsessed with the red daisies. Was there such a thing? She couldn't be sure, but she could not get rid of the sight of a bunch of red daisies constantly devouring her mind.

Did such a thing really exist? So would it be a red daisy?

"Well, let's handle this big unknown after breakfast, okay, Milky?" she said in a whisper in the cat's ear.

She noticed how her legs were strained when she tried to slowly get up from the chair. She was sitting in the rocking chair beside her bed, and she would have to go as far as the wardrobe on the other side of the bed.

"Isn't it time for me to die?"" She murmured as she barely started walking. "I am no longer able to wear my clothes myself," she kept saying.

When she opened the door of the wardrobe, her red dress hit her eyes. This morning she had her luck in the red, it means... So it was okay to continue with red. Also, sometimes striking colors could bring joy to life.

“I was not without joy, but…” The old woman smiled.

After she had changed her clothes and made her bed with difficulty, she gasped. Then she started thinking again. Was it morning or evening approaching? She felt hungry, but what was she going to eat? Is it breakfast, lunch, or dinner?

At that moment she heard the voice of the milkman passing the door every morning.

"Oh... It was morning," she smiled and prepared a small breakfast, just as small as the tray itself, on a tray small enough to fit on her knees. She went slowly with his tray to the table in front of the window. Her wrists ached as she slowly set the tray down on the table.

"I couldn't even lift a tray. See you Milky?"

She was a little sad at that moment, but her sadness was short-lived. She had realized that she hadn't got her tea before she had a chance to sit in her chair. Her old wrinkled hands remained on the chair she was about to pull. Her eyes remained in the open kitchen next to the rocking chair she was sitting in the morning.

When she was old enough, she moved into this one-room house. She was eating, sleeping, and sitting in the same place. Opposite the bed, there were two armchairs and a fireplace. Interestingly, the fireplace never went out. It was not necessary to throw wood or something. The table was just at the level of the kitchen, next to the sitting group. The rectangular room was enough for her and even increased.

No no... No, impossible... No breakfast without tea.

She reached the kitchen, staggering, with heavy slack steps. She reached the kitchen, staggering, with heavy slack steps. She took the kettle in her hand, poured her tea, set the glass on the counter, and walked back to the table. Her eyes caught on the breakfast table when she put her wrinkled hands on her chair.

“There is no breakfast without tea…” she said, and her eyes returned to the kitchen area.

There was a cup of tea there. Had she forgotten?

She slowly staggered towards the kitchen. She put the tea glass on the counter. It was ice cold. She thought she had forgotten there from the hangover. She was forgetting a lot, it is obvious that she forgot everything nowadays too.

She took the cold kettle in his hand. There was still tea in it. She emptied it and brewed herself a new tea. She was tired of all this activity in the morning. Moreover, some of them were not even aware of it. She finished her breakfast and cleaned her dishes. Then she sat down in one of the armchairs and started looking at the fireplace.

Milky was in her lap again. Her gaze turned to the windows covered with grass. The house did not get enough sunlight anyway, but these invaders prevented sunlight from entering. While thinking about the remedy to get rid of herbs, she found herself again in the morning question.

"Red daisies..." she said quietly. She thought she remembered, but she wasn't sure. She had to check it out.

Milky unhappily descended from her knees as she stood up slowly. She limped toward the door. Her hand reached for her coat, which had begun to seams but stopped for a moment. Was it summer or was it winter? It was obviously a sunny day, but... Damn weeds covered her windows, and she couldn't see it, but it looked like a sunny day... She had to find a cure for those weeds. But why was she getting her coat? What was she doing out there?

"Ah…" she said quietly. "Red Daisies."

She put on his coat and took his bag. Her bag was always next to the door, under her coat, anyway. As she gently pulled the door, Milky came out too. Probably going to hunt mice. Well, it was essential to have someone handy at home.

She left the house without locking her door. She left the garden and slowly began walking down the autumn street filled with brown. Did she take a cane with him? Then she caught sight of a stick on the side. What need was there to go home for the cane? The stick would do her job too.

From that moment on, she started muttering, not forgetting where she was going, as she always did when she went outside.

"Red daisies. Red daisies."

The roads changed as she walked, her consciousness cleared as the roads changed. She remembered very well what to do. She would go to the cemetery as she did every day. Pick up the red daisies from the road, and leave the red daisies on the graves of her lost family.

White daisies were to blame for her loneliness, forgetfulness, and everything else. She had lost everything because of the white daisies; and because those daisies turned red, she always took red daisies to the cemetery.

Years ago, she and her husband and children had gone out to go shopping. They even had cars. They were rich... She saw white, fresh daisies at a roadside flower shop. She was remembering that moment... Her husband also looked at where she was looking and smiled.

Right right; her husband was a handsome man. When he smiled, women would start courting him, regardless of whether he was married. She was embarrassed to show her jealousy, but her husband always said, "It's obvious from the flame coming out of your eyes... Don't hide it in vain. "He was a little bit mischievous.

She smiled as the memories began to fill her mind, but soon her smile froze. Her husband pulled the car over, picked up a bunch of daisies, and they were trapped under that truck when they were on their way back. And, lastly, she saw daisies painted with blood while she was fainting. Then it wasn’t lucky to see their bodies again... Unfortunately, she couldn’t leave the hospital in time.

Passing by a house with a garden, she saw the flower shop.

"One of the same, my lady?" the woman selling flowers said while smiling with her healthy face.

"The same," she smiled with difficulty. Her mind was still in the daisies that had turned red. She took the red daisies given by the woman in her hand and slowly fell on her way.

Her eyes searched for the large tombstone as she entered the cemetery. She had a huge family cemetery after she recovered and had the photographs of all of them put on the marble, including her own.

Each lay under their own photograph. All of them had graves full. Only her tomb was empty. The old woman felt his heartache as she moved slowly. She felt that she was getting old; tired...

When she reached the head of the tomb, she left red daisies right in the middle of the marble section. It had been over forty years since she lost her family. It was such a pain that she hadn’t felt alive once in the last forty years.

She first touched the picture of his older daughter. She was the angel from which she tasted motherhood. Then her hand reached for the photograph of her little daughter. She was the first to make her life knowing motherhood. Her first motherhood was like a test project... She smiled. Her eldest daughter suffered from all maternal inexperience; pity... Tight-fitting clothes, loose-fitting clothes, wrongly administered drugs, wrongly given meals. But when her little daughter arrived, she was more experienced. So her infancy was more comfortable; both for her husband and herself.

Then, her wrinkled hands slipped over her husband's photograph. She had forgotten about her husband's warmth. When her fingertips touched the photograph of her husband, she remembered that warmth and became cold; the old woman's eyes were filled. She missed a lot... Her heart hurt again... When her eyes began to close softly, she did not prevent herself. She would return home after a little rest. She lay down on the reserved grave. Wasn't she coming here soon anyway? And not to go again...

**

"Aunty?" She heard the voice vaguely. She then panicked when she realized that she was being hugged. It was getting dark. The old woman looked at the young man who had taken her in his arms. She knew this man from somewhere...

"But you always do this to me, don't you?"

At that moment her eyebrows lifted moodily. What was she doing?

"You forgot my handsome face again; right?" the man smiled.“Let me tell you now,” he continued. At that time they returned to the street where the old woman's house was.

"I am your nephew. You are my grumpy aunt. You are staying in my garden because you want to sit alone, and again you fell asleep at the cemetery"

The young man was saddened as he said the last word, but the old woman couldn’t notice this. She had no family, and when she began to get confused by his old age, the man took his aunt with him. He lived in the same house with his wife, son, and aunt; but the stubborn old woman wanted to live in a house of her own.

Obviously, she didn't want to disturb his wife – although she wasn't at all. Finally, when they couldn’t persuade the old woman, they built a prefabricated house in the garden of their large house. In this prefabricated house, which was a studio house, she was both comfortable and her nephew relieved because she was in front of his eyes.

Sometimes the young man laughed a lot at his aunt's grunts. For example, the old woman had planted ivy with flowers all over the house to make the house look more beautiful. Then, when the vines began to come in front of the windows, she began to complain about the weeds that weren’t cleaned. Indeed, the young man had to arrange those vines too.

When his gaze shifted back to the woman in his arms, he saw that she was asleep. They had returned home. He had her aunt take him home and have her dinner. The old woman seemed to have forgotten the whole day. When evening time came, the woman began to insist on going home and her nephew took the woman to her house in the garden.

**

The old woman suddenly strangers herself as she entered the house while hanging up her coat. Where was she? Ah... She was at home. But… Okay, why did she go out? It was getting dark, too. Maybe she was called Milky.

She looked around. Milky wasn’t there. When she hung his coat and opened the door, Milky rushed inside.

"Did you take me out at this hour, you mischievous?" she jokingly got angry at the Milky. Then she sat down by the burning fireplace. Probably the helper had burned it. "How beautiful..." she muttered; "This fireplace doesn't go out at all."

For some reason, she felt full. The old woman thought she ate too much for lunch. She looked at the stove; it would be better if she brewed tea but it was better if she finished her knitting first.

While the old woman started her own night with her housework; his nephew locked the garden door and headed towards his own home.

While the young man hugged his wife; "How I forgot to lock that door yesterday, I still don't understand," he muttered.

"Don't worry yourself that much. At least the place she went to is fixed," she tried to comfort him. The young man was saddened with a deep sigh. He should have been more careful. He would be more careful.

At night, everyone slept in their bed with peace.

The next morning, trying to get sunlight through the window of her one-roomed house, the old woman awoke. She threw herself into the rocking chair by her bed with difficulty. At the same time, her cat Milky was in the woman's lap. While she was absently stroking her cat's head, she suddenly thought of red daisies...

She was getting old now. She kept stirring up everything. Every morning when she woke up in her bed, her mind was obsessed with something. That morning she was obsessed with the red daisies.

Why did she think of red daisies?