This is really my first post on this website, and I'd love some constructive criticism. Please be respectful! But please also be truthful. Thank you! And please enjoy!
Marigolds, Roses
I shivered. The winds were strong today, bustling and roaring like a restless spirit. I was seated at the park in town, reflecting upon this most grievous date. It was the perfect location. I never felt more comfortable than in the sprouting life of the outdoors.
How I needed this haven today! During school, I had grown very anxious. Sitting amidst the brisk air relieved that; it opened my senses.
The date was 0ctober 21st.
Not only was this the day of my birth, but a cursed anniversary. My father passed away exactly 18 months before, on April 21st of 2007. I cannot describe the grief my family felt at his death.
My father was a serene, humorous man. He never missed a single performance my siblings or I took part in.
We each were mourned in our own separate ways. My mother took to pill addiction. But, my father’s death was one I had anticipated. He was a fervent alcoholic who practiced little restraint. I knew he would eventually end his life during intoxication. And yet, I caught myself today, indignant. Did it have to happen? Why my life must be so unruly and despairing, I could not comprehend.
“Chloe! I knew just where to find you.” Gavin chuckled.
“What are you-“
“I wanted to apologize.” The weather never stifled him. He smiled a lively, warm smile at me.
“Apologize?”
“Yep. I avoided you all day. I shouldn’t have. It was stupid.” He took the seat next to me and handed me a hot cocoa. How splendid it felt, trickling down my throat. “I noticed you were down in class.”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“No, no; you can’t lie to me… I’m here to make it up to you.” He looked out along the field, where the trees flailed. I wondered what he could mean as we sat there in awkward silence. After a minute or so, he rose and headed towards his truck, waving me to follow.
Ten minutes later, we arrived at the cemetery. I was astounded. He hadn’t indeed forgotten the date, as I anticipated he would.
“Take these,” he said, revealing two flowers he’d hidden in his truck. One was a crimson marigold with fluttering petals; the other, a golden rose.
“Gavin,”
“Here.” He placed them in my hands.
I protected them from the wind, but trembled. “They’re marvelous…”
“So you like them?” His eyes were attentive.
“Oh yes! I believe they’ve done me tremendous good.”
On the grave, I placed these beauties, where they remained unstirred amongst the blistering winds of Kansas.
It helps me improve my writing!