My Friend Flower – Three Things Challenge # 18/19
Today’s prompt: velvet, cloud, hippie
Today’s prompt: uranium, moss, dancer
Her name was Flower. She always wore a garland of daisies atop her long, straight hair. I knew her in those hippie days of the 60s, and she was my friend.
I tell you this now, after many years have gone by…many years…
Pardon me a moment while I collect my thoughts.
We were only play acting, you know. Play acting at being hippies, because we thought it was cool. We both came from nice, upper middle class families. We were in high school, and had our steady boyfriends. But there was a cloud of discord hanging over our generation. I see it now, though back then we had no idea really, what was going on in the world. We wore our velvets, and tie-dye tee-shirts, our Jesus sandals, and our rose tinted granny glasses, and danced to the latest records at parties. We crafted love beads and traded with our group of friends, and proclaimed peace not war. It was a time of innocence bordering on the rim of social injustice, and we felt a part of it.
Then, our boyfriends graduated and were called into this country’s armed services, headed for Viet Nam. Flower and I were among those who protested the war, but what really could we do? We still partied with our friends and sent care packages overseas to our boyfriends, and tried to make the best of things until we were reunited.
One spring day, Flower and I went down to the creek just to hang out. We talked of peace and war there by the moss covered rocks, while doves cooed in the branches of the weeping willow trees. Then, planning to go out that night to a little hole in the wall coffee shop, we painted our faces with glow in the dark paints. We giggled, thinking of how fun it would be to see everyone under the black lights there. We’d take part in the entertainment…she’d play her guitar, while I read a poem I’d written.
We did go that night, and it was a good night. That was one of the last good nights with Flower.
Just a moment, please…
Flower became very sick soon after that night. It was determined that the glow in the dark paint we’d used was tainted. We had no idea it was made with uranium in it. It was radioactive.
Why she got the radiation poisoning that killed her, and I didn’t remains a mystery. Maybe she’d used more of the paint than I had. I don’t know. Within six weeks she was gone. She never got to see her boyfriend come back home. She was as much a victim of the war as millions of others, I believe.
I’m glad she was my friend. I miss her.
Thanks for visiting! Peace ☮️
© 2019 BS