Crataegus monogyna – Hawthorn

Crataegus monogyna is an old eccentric English millionaire with a tight money-bag belly and a history of plenty. He wears a soft green corduroy three-piece suit and his fingers are covered with round red ruby rings. His skin is spiky, prickly and unshaven and his hair is a dense white matt spread like frosting over his frail pale crown. He looks feeble and fragile like a cut out paper man and every time the breeze blows in his direction he furrows his brow and grips onto his cane as though to anchor himself lest he start to blow away. I tiptoe up to him trying hard not to unsettle the air.

“Good day to you Sir” I say offering my hand in greeting. He looks up startled and suddenly presses his hand to his heart.

“Wh…wh…why did you have to go and do that you silly girl!?” he says his words slipping hurriedly through anxious lips. His chest is heaving, his body sucking in oxygen, his breathing uneasy and ragged. He grabs at his heart again in pain and looks around in stifled panic. After a moment he seems to calm and settles back against his chair.

“Couldn’t you see I was dozing? My…my…I…I just don’t seem to be built like I used to” he says his body slumping, worn out after his fright.

I sit down beside him, “I’m sorry”, I say. "How did you ever get like this?” I ask with concern. He looks up at me his glassy eyes fixing upon mine.

“Oh years and years of concurrence I’m afraid my dear. ‘Yes Sir, Yes Sir. As you wish Sir. What you say Sir’. Nobody to hold me back from the things that I wanted. Nobody to tell me ‘no’. So for years I had it all. Sumptuous feasts of all things fatty. Sweets like you never imagined, sculptured and sugared. Sitting around until my waistcoat buttons popped. Drinking red wine the colour of my cheeks as a new suit was made to accommodate new bulges”. He stares out into the distance a distressed look crossing his features.

“If only I had known”, he says softly as though to himself. He then speaks again to me, “Now my heart is injured, faulty. Where once it held passion and love, now it holds a semblence of an ever-fading life. I remember when I was young it would be so full of fervour and fight, swelling until I was sure it would burst with the endless delights caught within it. Now every day it seems more and more unstable. Thumping in intervals throughout the night, keeping me awake with the fear it shall stop. Never did I think I would hear my life slipping away from me. I gasp and gasp for air yet there’s not oxygen enough to sustain me. And I'm blocked up inside, congested and cold. I need to crack away the ice from within and let the sun shine through me. But it's winter all year, and the dark clouds have gathered ”.

He struggles to his feet and bids me farewell. As he shuffles slowly away I can see the effort in his face, the pain. Oh that he may be restored somehow, I think to myself. That he may again live to be inspired and feel the pulsing of the past once more.