Ignorant Bliss (a.k.a. whatever did Rose forget?)

Rose surveyed the front room with one narrowed eye. Something was definitely missing, but she just couldn’t put her finger on it...

Out of habit, she reached up to her face and touched her glass eye, popping it in and out of its wrinkled socket. She ran her tongue through her mouth, touching each tooth along her denture. Nothing missing from her face.

Birds sang happily outside. For once, they flocked around the feeder in the courtyard. Their carefree melodies, along with the sunlight streaming through the window, helped put Rose’s strange feeling to rest. How could anything be wrong on a wonderful day like this?

She eased into her rocking chair, picking up the knitting from the coffee table. Grasping one end of the yarn, she let the ball itself roll down her lap onto the floor. Her arthritis was acting up, so she put her needles back, choosing a large plastic crochet hook instead. A doily pattern would be easier on her aching hands.

Halfway though her fourth spiral, Rose started to notice all the hair that had accumulated on her skirt and chair. Short, orange-y strands clumped together on her furniture. They definitely weren’t hers: she had a head of silver hair.

“This won’t do…this won’t do…” she muttered, picking away at the hairs. She stood and found a handy-dandy lint roller in the bottom of her knitting basket.

As she finished rolling away the hair, a knock sounded at the door and two people burst through.

“Mom! How are you doing?” Abigail ran over and enveloped Rose in a bear-hug. “I’m so sorry! Was it a rough night? I know you’ve missed…her.”

Flabbergasted, Rose shook her head and held her daughter’s shoulders. “What ever are you talking about dear?”

Abigail’s eyebrows shot up, and she glanced over at John, who was still standing in the doorway, holding a small bouquet and a black, heavy-looking shoebox. He shook his head at Abigail. “She forgot,” he hissed.

Rose frowned at the two. “Forgot what? Don’t treat me like a little old lady. Next thing I know you’ll want to put me in a home.”

“I—erh…forgot…forgot…” Abigail stuttered for a moment, doing the verbal equivalent of stumbling backwards with pinwheeling arms. “Uh, forgot that we’re supposed to go out for specialty ice cream today!”

Rose lit up and promptly dropped her knitting and lint roller into the basket. “Why didn’t you say so? Let’s go!”

The three pushed out the door toward John’s car. He handed Rose the flowers awkwardly while trying to pull his keys out of his pocket. When Rose turned her back, he shoved the shoebox underneath the backseat.

Rose smiled at her two kids, clutching the flowers in her arms. “I’m just so glad you guys came to visit me!” She plopped into the passenger seat. “But John, dear, for future reference, lilies, cattails, and carnations are a strange combination—they’re often used as funeral flowers.”