“It’s here. I know it’s here.” He kept directing my driving. “Drive here. Drive there.”
We ended up on the street with the first house he grew up in. He remembered the street but couldn’t remember the house.
“I think it’s the one with the maple tree in front.” I didn’t know what a maple tree looked like and all the houses on the block looked similar.
“Which house?” I was hungry and getting bored searching.
“I think it’s this one.” He pointed to a yellow house with white trim. “There’s blue flowers all along the field in the back.
I looked at him confused. “There’s no field in the back. It’s more houses. This is Orange County. Everywhere is populated. There’s no fields with blue flowers.”
“Well, maybe it’s in the other home. I think there’s still some wooded areas there.”
“Awww.” I tried not to sound annoyed. I headed back to Lake Forest. I got off on Bake Parkway and then weaved a right into housing developments.
“The blue flower is somewhere here.” He really was starting to sound excited and sad at the same time. I drove closer to his other childhood home and we passed a patch of woods. “Stop here.”
I looped back and parked near someone’s driveway. There was a narrow path that led to a tiny wooded area. It might have been private property but I didn’t see any signs. He nearly jumped out of the car. He was searching. For a blue flower. Some flower he remembered from his youth that had a vanilla scent and a beauty no flower since could match. The ground was covered in decaying pine needles, dark dirt and occasional brittle leaves.
“No flowers,” I said.
“But I remember the flower. It was so beautiful. Why can’t I find the flower?”
I shook my head. “Sometimes the treasures of the past can never be found again.”
He looked sad and I hugged him in the weak sunlight. His body was slack and I knew the blue flower quest had ended. His childhood was over.
THE END