By Audrey Xu, Honorable Mention of “The Roar”‘s Middle School Spring Writing Contest!
“I hate you!” Lily shouted as she ran across broken glass.
He had done it. Her father had knocked her most prized possession, a framed photo of herself and her mother, off of the shelf, and she had watched it shatter to the ground. She could still hear the crash, the cracked pieces reminding her of her own broken heart, which still hadn’t recovered from the shock of her mother’s death. At this point, she didn’t even know where she was going. Her legs were carrying her through the door, past monstrous factories belching gray smoke…
Finally, Lily arrived at her subconscious destination: a small pond, hidden away from bustling, everyday crowds by tall, protective trees. She crumpled to a heap onto the ground, the soft grass reminding her of her mother’s gentle caress. Her muffled sobs echoed through the dense woods. She thought of all the nice times she had had with her mother, how her mother had nursed her through sickness, how she had persevered in comforting her even when she herself was having a hard day. Then, Lily remembered with a jolt the car crash that had killed her just two months before. She had been wearing her favorite coat, a blue denim one. It was now stuffed into the depths of her closet, never, as far as Lily was concerned, to see the light of day again.
“Why?” Lily asked out loud, her voice cracked. “Why did it have to happen to you?”
She glanced around her, trying to calm herself down by looking at the beauty that surrounded her. In front of her was a rushing stream, clear as crystal. The water would be cold at this time of year. Her mother had swum with her in there when she was little. No, Lily thought, think about something else, something that wouldn’t cause her to feel even worse. Two blue dragonflies darted around each other, the sunlight glinting off of their dancing bodies. In the sycamore tree above her, Lily noticed three baby sparrows stretching their beaks up for food. With a rustle of wings, their mother returned to place worms down their throats. It was no use. Lily had to think, to communicate with her mother in spirit, if not in body. She cleared her throat.
“Hey, Mom?” Lily started. “If you’re out there, I want to tell you that we’re all fine here. Dad and I are still getting used to not having you around. I finally talked to my teacher about having a hard time at school, like you told me to. Turns out I just needed hearing aids.” Lily laughed. “You know, before you, well, you know, went away, I would have thought that getting hearing aids was life-changing, a huge deal. Not anymore.” Lily paused for a moment, tears still gleaming in her eyes. “Anyways, Dad’s still trying to become a master chef. He always dedicates every meal to you, no matter how it tastes. So far, he’s not doing that well at cooking.” Lily’s voice changed, her words spilling out. “I know that what he did today was an accident. I–I just miss you so much that I lost it. It wasn’t fair to him. I know that we can get a new frame; only … I remember how you and I shopped for hours and hours to find the perfect frame ‘to go along with the perfect picture’, like you said.” Lily’s breath caught in her throat. “It’s not going to be easy, but … I think I can get used to life without the frame.” She knew she wasn’t talking about the picture anymore.
Lily heard rustling in the bushes behind her and turned around. Her father was climbing over the prickly brambles to get into the meadow. His face looked worried, not angry, like she had expected.
“Dad?” Lily asked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” her father said, equally shocked. “I just came here to, well, find comfort.”
“I guess we share similar tastes,” Lily said. She and her father shared a chuckle before quieting down.
“I heard you talking,” her father said. “Not the whole piece, just the last bit.”
“Dad, I’m sorry about yelling at you-” Lily rushed.
“No, I get it,” her father said. “I’m having a hard time, too.” Another pregnant pause followed.
“Right after you were born, your mother bought this jar.” He pulled out a clear glass jug, carved with a decorative floral pattern.
“She and I had a tradition to gather the first flowers of spring,” he reminisced, a glassy sheen coating his eyes. “When she saw this jar, something drew her to it. See these flowers?”
Lily peered closer. “Those are lilies,” she said softly.
“Yes,” her father said. “They reminded her of you. Ever since, we’ve been storing the flowers we collect in here.”
Lily nodded. She remembered seeing this jar full of blooming flowers standing on the shelf every spring, but she had never thought to ask her parents about it. It had just quietly stood there, silently adding beauty and cheer into their lives. She had taken it for granted. Like her mother. Tears started coming into her eyes, but a request from her father stopped them.
“Do you want to help me collect the flowers?” he asked. “We can put them in front of her picture, like a memento.”
“Sure,” Lily said, her heart feeling a bit lighter.
* * *
After they had finished picking the flowers, they stood by the bank of the river, staring at the scarlet sun as it disappeared over the treetops. Lily’s father put an arm around her, and she leaned her head into his side.
“Felicity,” Lily’s father murmured quietly, “we miss you.”
Lily closed her eyes in agreement, appreciating the warmth of the jacket she was now wearing. Her father had returned to their house and retrieved it for her once strong gusts of wind had started whistling through the trees. It was her favorite one, the one made of blue denim. It wouldn’t be easy or quick, but she – and her father – would learn to live without her mother. As silver drops of rain began falling out of the sky, Lily turned her head up to the heavens and breathed a whisper of gratitude for all that her mother had ever done for her.
The Roar 