Somewhere Among the Daffodils

December 11, 2007
By
You can hear the wind blowing through the wicker shutters, as Delilah fixes dinner for her grandmother Deseret and herself. Their small cottage was not much, but just big enough for the two of them. Deseret had taken in Delilah, when she was just a toddler. Now, the beautiful Delilah had grown into a woman of nineteen. She would give anything in the world to have Delilah stay with her the rest of her aging life, but she new that a gorgeous young woman would have men waiting at her hand and foot. Not only was she beautiful, she was sweet, she was kind to all the elderly people and young children of their village, and was talked about in the greatest manner. Any man would be blind and deaf not to love her.

On a warm, September day, Delilah had been gardening the flowers in their garden and plucking weeds from the soil. She had no eyes gazing upon her, or so she thought. Doug, another villager’s son, who had just turned twenty, was mindlessly staring at her. The villager, Isaac had noticed his son watching the young girl at work.

“Son!” the villager said.
Startled Doug jumped out of his seat and stood in his father’s presence.

Isaac spoke to him, “If you like this girl, you would try to get to know her.”

“But she hardly knows I’m alive, why would she give me the time of day?” questioned Doug.

“If you knew the personality of this fair young woman, you would be surprised to find out the grace of her manner,” Isaac concurred.

Doug took the words of the elderly man, and thought, deeply. It took him to gather all of his courage, to one day, leave the cottage, and walk up to Delilah, and start a conversation with her.

“Hello,” replied Doug.

Delilah stood up, smiled, and out came the same greeting, “Hello.”

He continued, “It’s quite searing out here,”

“Oh where are my manners, come in and cool yourself with a glass of lemonade.”
He politely took her invitation and followed her inside to the comfortable room. He watched her as she poured her lemonade.

“So graceful” he thought.
She walked over to him and motioned him to sit down. Delilah slipped the lemonade into his hands, and started their discussion again.

“So how is your farming?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s quite prosperous,” he replied, “how did you know I farmed?” he questioned her.

“I can see your muscles in your arms, so I assume it is from farm work.” She replied.

Doug was astounded she had such a blooming mind. They carried on their conversation for what it seemed about four hours. They learned so much about each other. When Doug had left, he told her that they should carry on little talks more often.

So every day, forward, Delilah and Doug talked about different subjects, what was going to become of their village in the near future, her grandmother, his father. And every day he brought her flowers, because he then found out they were her favorite flower.

Doug thought what would become of their deep relationship that was growing deeper. Also, little did he know, Delilah questioned their association. She decided to discuss it with him the next time they got together.

“Doug, what do you think of our little bond?” she inquired, the next time he came strolling by.

“Funny you should mention that,” he answered, “I have come to a resolution,”
He took a deep breath, placed her hands in his palm and said,

“I have loved you from the day I saw you from the window of my cottage. I one day took the courage to approach you the time you were planting your flowers. I enjoyed our little consultations, and I have come to ask you…will you marry me?”

Delilah remained traumatized throughout his speech, ever since he said, “I love you.”

“Yes!” She said, unable to stay calm.

The days coming they decided to talk nothing but of their wedding. Delilah’s grandmother was rejoicing that her granddaughter had found a man worthy of being her husband. Doug’s father kept calm, but by the way Doug saw him smile, he could tell he was happy.

Just two days before their wedding, the weather was outrageous, and the rain was pouring down from the sky as if heaven was overfilled with their water supply. Delilah’s grandmother, Deseret, had become very concerned of her flower garden, and walked outside to cover them with a blanket.

“Grandma, you can’t go out there, it’s heaving raindrops, you could grab hold of pneumonia!” cried Delilah.

“Nonsense child, I’ll be fine.” Replied her grandmother.
Without another word, Deseret trotted out of the house. She could feel the buckets of water draining down from the atmosphere. She tried to take the beating of rain, but her weak, withered body, could not take it anymore. Slowly she fell to the ground. Delilah ran outside, and quickly lifted her grandma and took her inside, and laid her on the bed.

The next day, Delilah could hear her grandmother tossing and turning.

“She’s alright!” Delilah thought. She rushed to her grandmother’s side, but was interrupted by the knocking of the door. She opened the door; there stood Doug, holding a bouquet of daffodils.

“I saw what happened to Deseret,” he said, “I brought her daffodils.”

“Thank-you Doug.” She replied. Not speaking, he turned on his heel and left.

“Grandma! Grandma!” yelled Delilah. No sound. “Grandma! Grandma!” she yelled again. Hastily she hurried to her grandmother’s bed. Only to find, she was not moving. Delilah placed her palm onto her grandmother’s heart. It lay still.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” she screamed. Footsteps beating opened the door.

“What is wrong?” Doug half yelled. Nothing came out of came out Delilah’s lips. He swiftly moved to Deseret’s side. Gone. Dead. Deseret’s spirit had left this world.
“Delilah?” Doug called out from outside the doorway. “Delilah?”
Strange, no one was home. Where would Delilah run off to? He opened the door, though he knew it was rude to open someone’s door without them inviting him in, but he was nervous. He wandered the house aimlessly looking for Deseret and Delilah. Once he found Deseret, he shook her frail body, waiting for her to wake up. She lay still as a rock. Gently placing his hand over her chest, he felt no movement. No heartbeat, nothing. Without a doubt, Doug realized Deseret had passed on to eternity. He caved over her cradle and steadily released the tears welled behind his eyes.

As soon as he wiped the remains of the dripping water from his eyes, he realized there had been no sound from the house, no other cries, just a deep, hollow house, with no one in it but him. Hurriedly he scavenged the cottage, searching for Delilah. As soon as he approached her room, he saw a sheet of paper on her bed, along with a daffodil.






“Dear Doug,
Under the circumstances, of my abandoning this cottage, you must know why by now. I cannot live with knowing I have no relatives, no family who loves me. Grandmother Deseret’s death has left me distressed. I am traveling to somewhere I belong, to a place where people care about me, not that they didn’t care about me in the village, but I have to go my own way. Work for what I earn, survive under the essentials. Believe me, if the situation, has hurt you, I never intended for sadness to be involved. There is no one on this earth who could ever replace you or your love. You are the only man I loved, in my entire lifetime, and you will always be the only one. Please understand my inclinations; I’ll always be with you, in your heart, and somewhere among the daffodils, where we both know I belong. Nature’s calling.”

Love,
Delilah
Doug held the letter to his heart, and picked up the flower.
“I understand, Delilah,” he repeated her words.
From that day forward, Doug vowed to find the love of his life, no matter what; nothing could stop him, from find Delilah. He knew that in both of their hearts they knew, they were meant to be together. Doug knew he could make it happen. In the lives of many people, they see Doug on the streets, though they don’t know him He’s still looking for Delilah. High and low, deep and wide. Among the mountains, among the prairies. And he always remembers where she is.
“Somewhere among the daffodils.”





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