Blue Sky Days Read Free

same height.
    As she looked me over, I took the opportunity to do the same to her. She wore a loose-fitting cotton dress of robin’s egg blue that twirled around her calves as she shifted. Her feet were bare, with toenails painted to match her dress. I had a sudden memory from childhood of Daisy preferring to be shoeless because she said that shoes were too confining and she never wore them unless absolutely necessary.
    “What happened to my little girl?” Daisy asked, drawing me back to the present. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears as she continued to look me over, shaking her head slightly. “You’re so beautiful! You’re all grown up, and I missed it.”
    I didn’t know what to say to that, and, possibly mistaking my silence for something else, Daisy added quickly, “But you’re here now and we have nothing but time to make up for…well, lost time.” She laughed as she pulled me in for another hug, then offered to help me bring my things inside.
    We deposited my bags just inside the front door, and I cast a look around while Daisy chatted excitedly. The front door opened into a large foyer; there was an old-fashioned coat rack just inside the door, with an antique-looking bench beside it. A closet took up the length of the opposite wall, and a small row of shoes was lined up neatly in front of it. As Daisy led me through the house, we passed the spacious kitchen, its gleaming countertops catching my attention. I had just enough time as we passed to notice a table and chairs, and a doorway leading to a formal dining room. When we entered the living room, Daisy gestured toward the furniture. “You get comfy and relax while I make some tea, okay?”
    While she was gone, I looked around the house that would be my home for…well, I wasn’t really sure for how long. Whether it was a few weeks, a few months, or longer, I knew I didn’t want to leave until I had achieved what I came for, and until I made a good start on my journey of self-discovery.
    The living room was enormous, with high ceilings, a mixture of eclectic furniture, and Daisy’s own artwork gracing the pale yellow walls. I had always loved Daisy’s paintings; whether they were abstract, portraits, or scenery, they held the power to make a person stop and think—about life, about love, about the world in general. She had a knack for capturing emotion and painting it onto a canvas with light and texture and a beauty that was multifaceted.
    Little porcelain faeries like the ones in Daisy’s front yard were scattered on tables and peeking out from behind the chairs, the grandfather clock, and the bookshelf. It was all so different from my parents’ house, which was stuffy and formal with furniture that looked uncomfortable and unwelcoming, and very few personal, homey touches. Daisy’s house reminded me of Daisy herself: a welcoming mixture of simplicity and complexity, warmth and charm.
    Daisy reentered the living room, her dress dancing around her bare legs as she moved to the coffee table and set down the hand-painted wooden tray she was carrying. She had such an easy grace about her and such a calming manner, I found myself completely at ease, which didn’t happen often.
    “I hope you still like peanut-butter chocolate-chip cookies,” she said, handing me what looked like an antique cup and saucer with a pretty shamrock pattern.
    “I do. I’m not sure I would have survived all those years without your care packages.” All through school, whenever Daisy visited, she brought packages with homemade cookies, fruit breads, and assorted teas. Once I was too busy to see her, she mailed the packages every few months. “Mother’s not exactly the baking type, as you know,” I said, accepting a plate of cookies from her.
    Daisy scoffed as she sat down beside me and tucked her legs up under herself. She didn’t say anything as she studied me, her eyes intense as they looked into mine, then roamed slowly over my face. “You’ve