Ring Around The Rosie
I hate the rain, from now until forever. It didn't used to be that way, when I was
little, I would dance around outside and soak myself in the cloud's teardrops. It
was a joyful thing, being outside in nature's shower, hearing the pitter patter of
droplets on the sidewalk, and squinting to see through the muggy sky. Somehow, it
doesn't feel the same now.
My mother loved the rain, too. She had left one evening to take a walk down to the
lake. She brought her sketchpad in her backpack, along with an apple and her
drawing supplies. She loved to draw the old oak tree down by the water. It's leaves
blowing in the wind, the smell of summer creeping through the scenery. When she
left that evening, I tried to follow her without her knowing. She didn't like me to
come because I didn't know how to swim, and she couldn't watch me while she was
I crept behind her along the path, watching my feet quietly step over sticks and
leaves, careful not to make any sounds. When we reached the lake, she sat down
underneath the tree and turned towards its trunk. She was going to draw the view
from the trunk below, looking up at the branches ahead. I noticed that the sky was
covered with clouds, all different shades of gray. I was scared it was going to
rain, so I went back to the house by myself. It started sprinkling on my way home,
so I figured my mom would come home too. I raced through the path and opened the
door to my house.
My eyes traced through our empty living room and darted over to the television. My
father was watching the weather channel, which was predicting severe showers. “Hey
dad, I guess I made it back just in time, huh??” I gasped.
“Yeah, its going to get real stormy soon. Where's your mom?” He said with a worried
look on his face.
“She's probably heading back now, I'm not sure though. You know how much she likes
“Okay, well maybe we should head over in a minute or two if it doesn't stop raining.”
He was always a safety freak. Especially around my mother and me. He hated for
anything to happen to us, because we were the only family he had left. The rain was
now pounding on the road outside, puddles growing larger and deeper. A few minutes
later, I heard thunder.
“Let's go check on her,” he said.
“okay” I responded hesitantly.
We crept through the slippery woods, shivering between the tilting trees. I saw a
flash of lighting between two tall ones, and my fathers eyes looked intense. We
plodded through the lengthy puddles and found our place on the banks of the lake.
The first thing I did was look for the oak tree. When I saw it, I darted for it at
full speed, screaming at my father to come. It was laying on the ground , struck by
lightning. Its branches full of sorrow, no longer able to hold itself up. My
mothers backpack was laying on the ground to the side, the apple slowly rolling to
my stopped feet. My fathers mouth hung open, and tears ran down my face. I leaped
over the trunk, and spotted an arm underneath the humongous width of wood. Pink
fingernails, a pencil lying within a few feet away from the hand. Blood was
drenching the once green grass.
My father and I pushed the tree with all of our ability to the side. There she was.
Crushed, cut open, and her sketchpad over her stomach. I felt my heart collapse
under the weight of my dizzy head. She wasn't breathing, and she wasn't opening her
eyes. I kicked the tree, and screamed. I yelled at the top of my lungs and cried
with all of my might. My father picked up the sketchpad, tears running down his
face as well. A light pencil drawing of the tree was visible. I reached for her
backpack and pencil. My father picked up her last apple, one bite bitten out of the
I screamed. I pounded on the ground with my fists and screamed so loud that it hurt
my ears. I ripped apart branches and threw her notebook into the lake, I was so
mad. But who was I mad at? I was mad because? because? because why? I didn't even
know! I was just angry at the world for making her leave. My father walked up to me
“Maya, we need to go home. Its raining too hard to see very well. It'll start
flooding soon.” He whispered in my ear.
“But, But what about mom?”
“Maya, We'll call the ambulance. But we have to get home.”
On the way home, rain and tears streamed down on our faces. My clothes were soaked
and I could hear my shoes sloshing under my feet, but the puddles didn't seem like
the same ones I used to dance in.
Suddenly I felt someone grab my hand. I looked down at it shocked, just quick
enough to see pink fingernails fading away from the delicate touch.
Its been years now and this will be the first time I have gone down to her tree.
When I arrived, the tree was gone and only a stump was left. My stomach churned at
the sight of the scene, but I urged myself to continue. I had come for a reason. I
sat on the stump and looked around. Suddenly, an apple with one bite out of it
rolled in front of my feet. I picked it up and smiled. She's with me.