One of the very first memories he has of his sister was her spiraling around herself, in a movement that coincided with the rotation of the earth around its axis. Her twirling would compel the flowers around her into a bending motion as if they were continuously greeting her. It was her magic and hers alone, to make the yellow Chrysanthemum field around her correspond to her movement. He, too, had been revolving around her orbit for a long time. Yet, life was not kind enough to leave him at peace. It robbed him of his sister from a young age, and with it, his raison d’être. He spent his latter years, searching for another meaning, another central gravity to tie him to this earth, but failed nonetheless.
It was on his deathbed that he remembered the flower field, and right in its middle, its whirling center. Closing his eyes, he quietly drifted from this world to the next. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in front of a stairway, the walls and floors painted blue with flower pots laid around each corner across the blue stairs. Dazed and confused, he approached the flower pots, their yellow vibrancy drawing him closer. They were yellow Chrysanthemums, instantly reminding him of his childhood and his sister.
The all-blue surrounding reminded him, as well of the azure sky that shielded him and his sister for years in the flower field. At that, he vaguely recalled a conversation he had with his sister about heaven. The girl was only 5, but had a firm conviction that heaven was blue, and that all things on earth that were blue in nature, have originally descended from heaven.
“She was right,” he smiled to himself at that recollection, and looked up the series of blue stairs that stood in front of him. Excited, he sprinted up the stairs, sure that they will take him to his heart’s long longing, the one whose smile stirred him and the flowers around.
Learn more about the contest which inspired this story: Photo Flora 2019-01