Blog Post 15: The Alchemy of Memory
Title: "Lavender and Laughter"
Jas flipped through the pages of their journal, pausing on the sketch they had made of the small vial Ivy Mae had found weeks ago, hidden beneath the tree in the cavern. They ran a finger over the page, remembering how the vial had survived the chaos unscathed. It still carried that faint lavender scent, something they hadn’t noticed in the heat of the moment.
The three of them sat around the table in the cabin’s main room, a small fire crackling in the stove. The glow of lantern light made the vial shimmer faintly on the table between them.
“It’s amazing how something so tiny feels so… important,” Jas said softly.
“It is important,” Ivy Mae said, leaning forward. “Lavender isn’t just a pretty smell. It’s been used for healing for centuries—an antiseptic, an antibiotic, even in the Civil War. And it’s symbolic, too. In Biblical times, they used oils like lavender to anoint people. It’s all about healing, renewal, and protection.”
Roman rolled his eyes. “Here we go. Did we also time-travel back to Ivy’s history class?”
Jas chuckled. “Let her talk, Roman. She actually knows what she’s saying for once.”
Ivy Mae smirked at the jab but continued, her voice softer now. “When I was little, my mom used to grow lavender in our garden. It was her favorite plant. She said it reminded her of calm summer evenings.” Her voice wavered, and she cleared her throat. “She taught me how to harvest it—how to rub the flowers between my fingers to get the oil. It’s one of the last things I remember doing with her before she got sick.”
The room fell quiet, the weight of Ivy’s words settling around them. Roman shifted awkwardly, breaking the silence. “Well, my grandma used lavender, too. Not for all that fancy healing stuff, though. She’d put sachets in my drawers so my socks wouldn’t ‘smell like a teenage boy.’ I hated it back then, but now…” He shrugged, his voice trailing off.
Jas smiled faintly. “My mom used to dab lavender oil on my temples when I couldn’t sleep. It felt like... safety. Like she could make everything okay, even when it wasn’t.”
For a long moment, none of them spoke. The little vial sat on the table, its golden liquid catching the firelight.
Roman finally broke the silence. “So, what do we do with it? Is this the part where Ivy drinks it and turns into some lavender-powered superhero?”
“Very funny,” Ivy Mae said, rolling her eyes. “No one’s drinking anything. For now, we just… hold onto it. Keep it safe.”
Jas reached out, closing their hand gently around the vial. “I think it’s more than just a vial. It’s... a reminder. Of who we are, where we’ve been. It’s something to carry forward.”
Roman smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Fine, but if it starts glowing or singing, I’m out.”
The laughter that followed was warm and unforced, filling the small cabin with a sense of closeness they hadn’t felt in a long time.
Later, as Jas pressed a sprig of dried lavender into the pages of their journal beside the sketch of the vial, they felt a strange sense of calm. Whatever lay ahead, they weren’t facing it alone.