All the Sunflowers

In a far off land, where things are simpler and time seems to stand still, sits two old men in plastic lawn chairs in a vast field of sunflowers. Nothing surrounding them except wide eyed yellow buds and their own thoughts.

There they sit.

They are senior citizens. The one dressed in brown slacks is 76 while his elder, 80, sits placidly in a grey pinstriped suit.

"Today seems extra special, don't you think?" 76 asks in a husky voice.

80 smiles at him and pulls the head of a sunflower stalk closer to him so he can smell the pungent aroma. "You're right, 76. I think today is extra special."

A lady bug lands on 80's forehead. "You see that. This lady bug thinks its extra special too since she decided to land on my wrinkled forehead. " He gives a chuckle as the scuttling of the ladybugs legs tickle his skin. She creeps between his eyes and crosses the bridge of his nose and then flutters off.

"Do you remember the first day we sat in this lovely field of sunflowers, 76?"

76 sighs and searches the realms of his mind. "We've always sat in this field, have we not?"

80 smiles. "Correct, my good man. You are correct."

They sit in placid silence. The breeze causes the sea of sunflowers to sway in unison like the waves of the ocean.

"I remember when I brought Lora here. She thought it was the most amazing place in the world. And it is. It's a shame she had to leave so soon." 76 looks off and a tear rolls down his cheek.

"Oh, 76. There are people who touch our lives who we hold on to. We hold on to them in reality physically but their emotional presence touches us, penetrates our soul and that never leaves us and that is both a blessing and a curse."

"What do you miss most, 80?"

"So many things. I miss the smell of my mother's cooking. I miss the throaty voice of Michelle singing in that little Paris cafe. I miss the smell of the ocean and the feel of the broken seashells under my feet. I miss the kisses of my woman on the back of my neck."

76 rocks in his plastic chair. The metal legs have become rusty. "We should get rocking chairs. Those are fun. Who gave us these nonsense plastic things. It doesn't match with the sunflowers."

"It is of your own doing. Don't complain. This place is beyond complaints."

The sun is a bright golden coin in the impossibly clear blue sky. It's rays warm the men's faces and tenderly bronzes their tone.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be in a field of roses, 80?"

"Roses?" 80 shifts in his chair. "What for? Roses are for hopeless romantics. For those ideal fools. Sunflowers are real. Roses carry unfounded expectations that never come through. Sunflowers are real. The only real thing."

"How do you know? This could all be a dream and tomorrow we could wake up and find ourselves sleeping in a bed of rose petals. I think they smell nice. How do we know what's real and not?"

"You're nonsensical. I know they're real, these sunflowers. And that's what makes them my reality."

76 thinks and is satisfied with his friend's answer.

80 remembers a time when he was in Paris at a nightclub he can no longer remember the name of. He would go there every evening to smoke cigarettes and have a coffee after a long day of work and meetings. Two lovers, the same ones or a different pair, would sit in the corner kissing unaware of the public around them. At first he would be envious of their romance, but then Phillipe would stumble onto the stage and introduce tonight's entertainment, Michelle. This impossible beauty would emerge from the backdrop in some fantastic dress that would cause all the men to blush. She'd clear her throat and start her heart wrenching ballad. After her last song, she would sweep across the audience and make small talk with them but right before Michelle could get to 80's table, he would pay for his bill and leave. He always remembered her raven hair that flowed down her back and the perfume that trailed behind her....

"80? 80? Did you hear me?"

80 broke from his reminiscent daydream and remembered the sunflowers.

"Did you hear me?"

80 shook his head.

76 repeated, "Do you think it's going to rain?"

80 looked into the crystal clear sky without a hint of grey and no trace of cloud.

"Maybe, 76. If we're lucky.... just maybe."