Rhododendron

By: Rebekah Willis

Carson slipped the plastic sheath over the flat bed floor and hoisted the heavy black pot over the wall. It wasn’t the best looking one in the shop, but it was the right color. Rhododendron: sturdy deep green leaves holding delicate purple petals. Bunches so perfectly arranged they looked like bridal bouquets, bounced happily against the still crisp spring air as he put the truck into gear and gunned it over the gravelly lot.

“Slow down, honey. I don’t want it to fall.” He eyed her, annoyed.

“Listen, Mina, I’ve been driving for a good many years and I don’t need you giving me guidance.” He slammed the breaks just in time to miss the tail end of the shabby old hound  Jim’s Potted Pleasures was known for letting roam the premises. The dog was an icon.

“Carson, my goodness…” She tried not to say too much and took deep breaths. I hate this truck. It’s such a bumpy ride I can barely stand it. I hope I can still get something done today.

By the time they pulled into the lane leading up to their private driveway, the deep muscles in Mina’s neck and shoulders were engaged in an all-out battle. She’d taken her time release pain medication, so she could handle the increased activity. At any rate, she was determined to get that plant in the ground.

Carson maintained his annoyance, glancing sideways at her. He hated gardening, especially now that she was less able to pull it off alone and he was forced to court her in the sometimes blazing heat. At least, that is what his conscience told him. Carson also hated his conscience.

Mina opened the heavy door of the 150 slowly and cautiously placed her feet on the step trying to appear fluid and carefree. Far from convinced Carson blew and rolled his eyes, “Mina… Dangit…” He could barely contain himself. “Are you seriously going to dig that hole tonight?”  He jumped from the cab and slammed the door, dragging his feet around the back of the truck. He gazed into the faded blue sky watching a passing plane leave its trail. “Sun’ll be down in less than two hours.”

“I can do it. I want to get it in before the next rain.” She unlatched the short back door of the cab and felt blindly for the clasp to which her folded walker was attached. When she found it, she released the Velcro and tried to drag the frame towards her, hoping she wouldn’t lose her balance.  Her eyes were facing down, but she felt like she couldn’t see anything. Her walker wouldn’t move.

“Carson…”

Quickly beside her, his strong hand landed on her forearm. “Move.” He pushed a little, but she couldn’t make her feet agree. He ended up having to catch her as quickly as he’d suggested she give him more room. He softened, “Here, just take my arm for now. I’ll bring your walker out when I get you settled.”

“Carson, I’m not settling yet. I’m putting in that bush,” she protested. “Look, honey, just help me get moving forward a little and I’ll be fine. I already took out the little spade.”

Carson bit his tongue and locked his jaw. He knew when there was no point in pressing the issue. He grabbed the plant and stalked off through the yard.

Around the little paved path and down a little ways, Mina’s eyes fell on her most treasured gift. Carson had surprised her, late last summer, with the barrier-free gazebo. All winter long she had been waiting for the first hint of spring to emerge, so she could get into it. She smiled and relaxed a bit when she considered all the memories to be made there.

The rhododendron would go just in the center, where Carson had asked the contractor to leave a circular spot of earth. His heart is right, she thought forcefully. He planned that spot for just this type of day.

 She watched him drop the plant beside the round and turn towards her, solidly miffed.  As he passed her, he grumbled, “Let me know when you’re ready to put it in.”

She crossed the last few feet to the round and carefully maneuvered her walker behind her. Locking the brakes, she plopped into the seat. A few daring articulations of her foot and upper core and she had the spade by the handle. After silently reviewing the instructions the man at the greenhouse had given her, she began to move the soil. Thankfully, the contractors had laid some new dirt and it was devoid of the hateful clay found throughout the rest of her property.

Tiny scoop here… larger scoop there... dropped spade... Carefully standing, leaning bodyweight on metal and wood… Divide the lump. Lift and remove. Drag it out—every option was put into play. She rested after nearly every movement, forcibly, and soon the burning ball of gold she’d prayed would slow its progression, sat regrettably on the horizon. She was decidedly a tad more than chilly.

“Ow, ow, ow…” She complained, sliding onto the ground where she’d decided she could get more accomplished.  She lifted and pulled herself over to the attached bench to her right and grabbed the hand rake she’d asked Carson to lay out. A couple additional trips and she had moved the liquid fertilizer and the bag of mulch nearer to working position.

After mixing the dirt and mulch, she turned to the house. Every light extinguished, she assumed Carson had fallen asleep over his alma mater’s latest missive or some military journal. A breeze passed her, sending a shiver up her front and tripping her into a set of more aggressive movements.

I’m getting this in the ground tonight. I’m going to do this thing. She took as deep a pull of air as she could manage and allowed her body to tumble sideways onto the remaining mulch. The sack had held much more than this small spot required and she was able to rest on it, feeling the wrenching muscles in her scalp, neck, shoulders and core release.

Her breath came steady, but created little smoky puffs above her nose. Staying out much longer would make her a fool. Her lungs couldn’t handle too much of this. Resting is necessary, but there are times when you just have to make due. In a minute, she thought, I’m going to get up and finish the job. She checked the sky for stars and noticed that there were one or two. She pushed away thoughts of disgust and self-pity, which threatened to weaken her.  Her mind flashed with images of how to do each movement – now and back then. To get that bush out, I’m going to have to get up.

 Now.  She told herself and shifted until she could hold the base of the bush with both hands. Bravely, she tipped it to its side and used the well established branches to gauge her position as she sat up. “Sorry, little bush. But you and I are in this thing together.”

As she could manage, she placed her hands beneath her lazy lower limbs, placing them against the stiff temporary pot. Wiggling it, a bit, she loosened the soil and then, slowly, but firmly, separated it from its plastic home.

She smiled and laughed out loud, no longer concerned about the cold. It was only a matter of minutes before the beautiful little bush was settled in the earth with her scraping the displaced soil around its sides.

“Yes, we are in this together.” She fell back into the mulch and sighed, resting a second before she tamped the earth.  She reached for her phone. Without looking she pressed the dial key, surprised to hear Carson’s phone ringing in the yard. The surprise left her body frozen in position, so she called out to him.

“Carson. Honey, is that you?”

All was quiet and for a second she felt her heart pounding inside her chest as she imagined a thousand awful things. “Carson!” she called, unable to change positions. She recognized the sound of his footsteps on the path.

“Mina, you really are something!” He said, falling to his knees beside her. His eyes glistened in the first light from the full moon rising. He kissed her on her forehead as she relaxed, happier than she had been in a long time.

“You’re going to have to help me up, honey. I’m all in!” She laughed, making a move to rise. Carson supported her in his way, so that her flexed feet barely touched the ground. She laughed again, this time upright, which always caused her to bend double. This time the movement while he held her made her laugh even more, but Carson didn’t mind.

“Baby, you’re going to have to stop laughing or you’re going to fall off the walker. I was bringing out your chair when I saw you on the ground. Let me get it.” He ran down the path, returning quickly with her inexpensive transport wheelchair and helped her into it, carefully lifting her feet onto the rests. He kissed her again. “I thought you were hurt, but then I saw what you were doing… I’m sorry I didn’t help, but I was just so amazed… I don’t know how long I was watching.”

“Carson. It looks wonderful in that spot, doesn’t it?”

He nodded.

“It will grow to be five feet tall, five feet wide.” She squeezed his hand. “That’s almost my natural height, do you remember?” She smiled, wishing she could get another look at her accomplishment, but unable to force her body to turn. “It is a sturdy little bush.”

Carson, rubbed his arms against a passing light wind and rose to push the chair up the path.

“It’s sturdy. It can endure rough weather. It can survive change.”

Rebekah Willis lives with early on-set generalized Dystonia. She started this magazine to be useful to all those living with Dystonia and to lend her efforts towards meeting a perceived need for practical living support within the community.