They were waiting in the glow of the apple blossoms for the guests to arrive. Eleonoora’s mother wanted to throw one last party for her friends. The apartment Sammonkatu smelled too much of illness, so they decided to remove the party to Eleonoora’s garden. Besides, Mom said, what better place for a terminal party than under the apple blossoms?
Mom and Dad had come well before the guests arrived. Mom wanted to poke her fingers in the dirt one more time, insisted they let her plant the morning glory seedlings, a variety called Thread of life. Now the threads of life poked drooping out of the earth under the window, in shock from the light, sucking up moisture from the mulch. Tomorrow they would perk up, and in a few weeks , when the apple blossoms had fallen from the trees, they would reach as far as the windowsill.