chapter seven – emery

“Where are we going?” I ask for the probably thousandth time.
“I am not telling you. Be surprised,” Bea answers again. It’s the same answer she has given me all the other times I asked her.
I am walking two steps behind her because the path is so narrow. Her black ponytail has been swinging from left to right in front of me for the past fifteen minutes. As usual, there’s a bow holding it together.
Bea has a big bag slung over her shoulder like we are going to the beach, but I know we are not going there. Therefore, there are way too many trees around us.
I nearly walk into Bea as she abruptly comes to a stop. I look over her shoulder to see why she doesn’t keep walking. And then I know.
We’ve reached the end of the path and now there’s only a big meadow in front of us. There are flowers everywhere.
“Woah,” I let out the breath I was holding.
“It’s pretty amazing, right?” Bea asks before carefully stepping onto the meadow.
“Yeah,” I follow her and try not to step on too many flowers. Bea gets a blanket out of the bag she was carrying and places it on a patch of flowers. We both sit down and Bea starts to unpack her bag. She places strawberries, blueberries, apples, and orange slices on the blanket. Then some snacks including dark chocolate, which she by now knows, is my favourite kind of chocolate.
“Okay. You’re definitely prepared,” I say, amazed by all the things she brought.
“Yep, I even got sunscreen should you need some. Although I don’t think it’s necessary,” Bea says looking at the cloudy sky. “I just wanted to be safe,” she adds with a smile.
Cautiously I touch the surrounding flowers. There are daisies, forget-me-nots, and poppies. Most of the other ones I’ve never seen before.
“Those are century herbs,” Bea says pointing at the pink little blossom I looked at the past few seconds.
“They are so lovely. How do you know?” I ask her.
“I used to come here with my grandpa to picnic. He was big on gardening and flowers. I could probably name you all of these, even though I haven’t been here since he died five years ago,” Bea explains, a sad smile on the lips.
“I am sorry,” I say before taking in what a special place she brought me to. Somewhere that means really much to her, so much that she didn’t bare coming here without her grandpa. Until now.
“Thank you for taking me here,” I say. Bea acknowledges it with a smile and a nod.
“Can I ask you something serious?” I ask after we’ve sat in comfortable silence for some time.
“Go on,” Bea invites me.
“How do you do it? How-how do you live every day with such joy? I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone live so much and be so happy,” I ask her, trying to find a word for what I see gleaming in her eyes every day. Bea smiles at the smallest things. Seeing an old couple on a bank in the park, eating ice cream with sprinkles and the sun tickling her nose.
For a lot of time, Bea is silent. “We only have this one life, but if you live it right, one is enough,” Bes pauses. “And that’s what I am trying to do”.