Life's a Stitch

A sudden thought startled me awake at 3:00 a.m. Oh no, where is my garden angel? The one at the house in the rain forest, who for 18 years, protected our periwinkle, iris and bamboo. The guardian angel that watched over a sweet sixteen party, our games of bocce and the white tented wedding rehearsal dinner. She witnessed painful conversation while we sat on the Allan block wall, out of earshot of the kids and Gracee romping all crazy doglike in the grass or bunny hopping through the snow.

The next morning:

"C, did you remember to take the garden angel when we moved?" 

"No," he replied, a panic inducing simple two letter answer.

Those two letters turned me into a woman on a mission. A rescue mission. So off I went on a sunny day determined to recover a small, but significant part of our former life.

Stealth would be required, good thing it was Sunday when the construction crew was nowhere to be seen. Are you kidding me? The construction crew seemed to have given up quite some time back. What a mess:

As I got out of the car, I spied across the street neighbour, J. Within seconds we were accomplices; two women on the same mission. Nobody was going to mess with us.

"Anything else you want while you're here?" 

"My hostas." Some from our previous house, making them thirty years old when I met their acquaintance. Who knows how old they really were? How many houses they had seen?

"OK, you get the angel and I'll bring over shovels and a pot." 

First glance revealed no angel. Then I spied the tip of a wing protruding from the periwinkle. A slight tug and here she was, green with moss, but all in one piece.  I would have taken her wingless. In fact, when I arrived back home, C offered to pressure wash her. No, I said, I like her mossy accumulation of experience. 

In total, we rescued the angel and five hostas. J egged me on and we actually attempted a Japanese Maple heist and, although we really wanted to try, we left the fifteen foot tall palm trees. That's what neighbours are for. To help preserve physical proof of the memories we shared in a now rapidly changing neighbourhood. Me, because we left, her because she remained, staying in one of the last houses standing on the corner of Canyon and Cedarcrest, in the rain forest.

Mission accomplished.