Flowers

A kind gesture of love reveals that a picture says far more than words...

- ROSEMARY HAYES

I stand at the open doorway of the room my mum has used as an art studio for as long as I can remember.

"I'm heading out, Mum."

As usual, she doesn't stop working on the painting in front of her. She's covering every inch of the five foot-byfive foot canvas in water lilies: pastel yellows, reds, oranges, pinks and white. The detail of each bloom is stunning. They are her favourite subject. Paintings of all sizes hang everywhere, stacked in piles. Her studio is an overflowing greenhouse of painted water lilies.

I repeat myself, louder this time.

"I'm heading out, Mum."

She raises her left hand and waves without looking at me. Her eyes are firmly focused on the delicate strokes she's brushing. There's no, "Where are going? Who are going with? What time will you be back?" But I'm twenty-two now and used to that.

I open the front door before Nate has a chance to knock.

"Great," I smile at him. "You're on time. Let's go."

I don't invite him inside. Instead I join him on the top step and shut the door.

"Wasn't I supposed to meet your mum before we head out?"

"She's busy, maybe next time."

"That's what you said last time, Emma."

"It's complicated." I head towards his car.