Leona

Based off of yesterday's Smuckers 100+ birthdays on the Today show, this one was just begging to be embellished.

Leona
by Jill C.

Leona sat with her legs crossed Indian style, enjoying the coolness of the grass through her cotton skirt. She ran her wizened hand through the dewy forest of turf in front of her, fervently wishing that the magic worked on ugly protruding veins as well as longevity. Pushing her glasses farther up her nose, Leona brought a quivering sprig on greenery up to her face. Sighing, she nestled it back into the mass of leaves before her. Three leaves, precisely like it should have.

Leona sighed again and dipped her hand into the pocket of her grey wool sweater. Her shaky fingers met with a spread of crackles as they came in contact with the dried remains of findings over the past year. Even old and dry, they were still lucky, like she was.

Taking a brief rest to look up at the sky, Leona reveled in the season. Glorious spring. Birds fluttered overhead, dancing and singing in their mating rituals. It reminded Leona of a musical. Everything rehearsed to be executed at exactly the right time, and then passed on and on through the generations, without regard to the time that passed.

Leona wished that she could disregard the time that passed. It didn't matter to her, so long as it continued to pass. But the little nurses in their pinstriped uniforms who seemed to be getting younger and younger and dumber and dumber constantly reminded Leona of her age and the complications that went along with it.

As they believed, one could not reach one hundred and nine years of age without having some sort of debilitation, like memory loss. The nurses constantly felt the need to remind Leona of the day's schedule, as if she could not remember it herself. In truth, Leona knew the schedule better than the nurses, as she often wrote it herself.

Leona returned to combing the patch of leaves and flowers in front of her. The clover blossoms, like miniature golf balls, tickled her fingers as she passed over their sweet-smelling heads. The flowers were sweet, but the real treasure lay beneath. Leona bent further, bringing her face even closer to the soft ground cover. Her fingers closed gently around a bunch of leaves, and she swiftly plucked them from the ground.

A smile spread across Leona's face when she saw the fruit of her search. Sitting in her palm was a little four-leaf clover. It was slightly lopsided, but it was still a lucky sign. Leona brought it to her lips and gave it a brief kiss, then slipped it into her pocket.

A few more months, at least. Then she would be back looking for more. The nurses felt the necessity to remind Leona that healthy eating and exercise lead to longevity, not luck. But Leona knew better. Or perhaps she just had more fun believing in a little magic.
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