Flowers & Sisterhood

On Saturday morning I received a call from *Victoria asking me what my plans were for the day.

 I looked around at the mess that I had committed myself to cleaning up before a party took place at Alan's and my home for a friend. "Cleaning. What about you?" I asked cheerfully.

"I'm heading to the Flower Market and was wondering if you wanted to join me." *Victoria replied. 

It took me a nano-second to make up my mind. "What time do you need me ready?" I asked her. 

"About half an hour?" She answered and that sealed the deal. Rather than sorting the clutter I had spread about on the dining room table, rather than wash the mountain of dishes in the sink and vaccum the floor I would be going to the flower market with my sister. 

I embraced the distraction happily, the chores would still be there when I got home anyway. 

I dressed pretty and comfortably in a pair of black trousers and a grey long-sleeved shirt with vibrant-coloured humming birds and a pair of white bow flats, slid a pair of pink dream-catcher earrings into my ears and waited for *Victoria to pick me up out the front. 

When *Victoria's car pulled up to the curb I jumped in. To my surprise I found myself being nominated as navigator, assisting Suri with our route. Despite the pair of us getting distracted with catching up, we miraculously made it to the flower market after narrowly missing the exit that would take us to Toowoomba and we joked that we'd be a few months early for the flower show. 

"When we go to the flower show in September, I vote not being in the hot seat." I insisted.

"Somehow I don't think I will be driving, the boys will sit in the front doing the hard work and we'll sit in the back..." 

"With a bottle of wine." I finished. We both liked that idea a lot although we didn't know whether it would be legal.  

Broaching another topic, I said to *Victoria. "I was reading online about the health benefits of roses. I have been using rose water essence in my foot-spa and it smells pretty. Also,  I read that roses make their own oil. You grind their petals and put in them in jars of water outside for a few days, then voila!"

"That sounds pretty cool. You just have to make sure you use organic roses so it's natural. Some farms use pesticides to keep the bugs from eating the roses." 

"Good point." I conceded before saying theatrically in a lofty English accent.

 "I like to bathe in rose hip oil, tainted with a hint of pesticide!" 

*Victoria laughed. "You're funny!" 

"I should be a comedienne." I dead-panned and we had a giggle at that. 

This would be my first time at the flower market and so far I liked what I saw, vibrant blooms in every color of the rainbow arranged artfully in pots. *Victoria explained her system for her visits to the flower market, she likes to wander between the three stalls and ponder the possibilities.

The flowers, the colors, the specials and the value before making her choices, holding up bouquets side-by-side; inwardly debating what looks best with what, whether it is too much or not enough pop. Today she feels spontaneous, hoping that inspiration will strike when she is in her element.

We wander through a stall and a cold room before we both agree to warm up with a hot chocolate and a brownie. Together we sit down and have a proper catch-up. 

"I have been sending out resumes left, right and center but not much luck yet. I applied for a job at Muffin Break." I informed her. 

"Nice." She approves. 

"I have to improve my baking skills though. My banana bread never turns out as it should. Alan tells me it's not like his Mum's." Alan has no scruples with honesty. A quality that by turns can be refreshing and endearing or a pain in the arse. Because I love my mother-in-law, I don't particularly mind his candidness about my banana bread because it's true, the inside is moist but the taste is dull.

*Victoria grins. "Did you follow a recipe?" She knows me too well. 

"No." I muttered. 

*Victoria laughed. "That's why your banana bread doesn't work! But I think they provide the recipes for you." 

"Can you imagine the lunch-rush at Muffin Break and people are asking "What's burning?" I ask jokingly. 

"There's a head-line, Muffin Break Trainee burns cookies..." *Victoria says dramatically. 

"And the fire department got called!" I joked.

We had a good giggle at the thought of me being the cause of smoldering cookies and disgruntled Muffin Break customers. 

After draining the last drop of hot chocolate and the last crumb of brownie was eaten, *Victoria and I headed back into the deep freeze. "I'm glad I wore a long-sleeved shirt." I said through shivering teeth.  

"You can go wait out the front." *Victoria offers. "Oh no, I'll be fine." I promised, not wanting to leave the blooms that had enchanted me with their delicate, elegant beauty. 

I held out as long as I could before *Victoria led me out and left me in charge of the baskets that held the precious cargo of our first haul. 

I jotted down a few lines in my note-book before *Victoria came back out, bearing more flowers. 

As we slid the long narrow box across her back seat she says. "I bought half the place, they'd be lucky if they had anything left!" 

Back at *Victoria's place she gave me the basics of bouquet-making, lie each stem across another and hold lightly, gently gathering the stems together before cutting the ends evenly. Carefully pull the flowers to the top of the boutique. To create a temporary vase, a sheet of cellophane, spread it out in the sink and pour a little water in the middle, leaf-out the cellophane before tying twine around the middle of the bouquet, seal it tightly to trap water in the bottom before adding another layer and for a finishing touch, make a bow with a string of ribbon. Then put the cellophane vase in a box to hold the bouquet upright securely so no water falls out.  

I created three gorgeous wild-flower bouquets - one of them for me, the other two for my friends who were coming over to a birthday dinner Alan and I were hosting that night. 

*Victoria and I chatted companionably while we worked and I knew that I would remember this day forever. We spoke of our dreams, our hopes, our mounting excitement and anticipation to have our sister *Cassandra home for good at the end of the year. 

When I thought of my first friends when I was younger, I did not think of my sisters then. 

Yet it is true, the first friends I had ever made are the ones who I am blessed to call my flesh and blood. Whoever your sisters are, whether you share blood or share heart - keep them close but let them grow where they choose, give as much as you can in time because those hands on the clock never stop moving, treasure their words, forgive their short-comings, cheer them on and love them hard. 

Sisterhood is something precious to hold onto in a life filled with blessings and fraught with hardship and disappointment. Having someone, a soul-mate - who knows you like the back of their hand is something to cherish because even if you stumble or come last in the race of life, with the right people you always feel like you win.  

- Sarah x