Post by Anne Porter on Jul 28, 2009 16:57:12 GMT -5
She had always enjoyed watching the sunset. She had always sat in the same place, soaking in the deliciously warm rays of sunlight that poured down over her body. Like little drops of golden happiness, her mother always used to say. She would sit and rest, a smile spreading slowly across her face as she leaned back on her hands, face upward to the sky, remembering. The good days of sweet tea summers and the winters made of icicles and gingerbread. Dancing amongst the daisies in the spring and crunching down the streets in the fall... How could she have let things get this bad?
Now, there hardly was a sunset, because the sun never really shone anymore. The little place where she used to sit and rest had been destroyed by fires, and all but the lake in the middle of what was once the forest, was gone. Her once sun-darkened skin had turned pale and her slightly sun-bleached hair had gotten darker as it was when she was younger. Rather than sit and remember, she sat and tried to forget. So longing to forget the good days of sweet tea summers and winters made of icicles and gingerbread. Hanging laundry in the yard during spring, and sloshing through puddles in the fall. She hoped to forget that things were once good. Forget that she never used to need a reason to smile. It happened naturally before. Nevermore would her heart race at the simple things in life and never again would spread that childishly amused smile across her face. No. There was much more to be dealt with now.
Now, there hardly was a sunset, because the sun never really shone anymore. The little place where she used to sit and rest had been destroyed by fires, and all but the lake in the middle of what was once the forest, was gone. Her once sun-darkened skin had turned pale and her slightly sun-bleached hair had gotten darker as it was when she was younger. Rather than sit and remember, she sat and tried to forget. So longing to forget the good days of sweet tea summers and winters made of icicles and gingerbread. Hanging laundry in the yard during spring, and sloshing through puddles in the fall. She hoped to forget that things were once good. Forget that she never used to need a reason to smile. It happened naturally before. Nevermore would her heart race at the simple things in life and never again would spread that childishly amused smile across her face. No. There was much more to be dealt with now.