My earliest memories tend to be sunny, tend to be baseball games and building little houses out of twigs and pebbles in the bark of forgiving trees. They’re always the same temperature, late summer maybe or burning spring. It’s still my favourite weather because it’s warm enough to wear short things but cool enough for long pants made from winter materials. No matter when they shear the sheep or melt down the polyspandex blends, they always end as the threads of the cold months that bleed into the warm.
I remember thinking for a time I could be a good ballplayer. The soft leather and the smell of grass and my hair heating in the deep sun, and soon I was gathering dandelions as presents to compensate for my refusing to play second base if there were flowers to pick. I always tried to make little chains, always split down the milky centres and tried to force the stems together, splitting them up the middle more often than not. Regardless, the chains were not for indoors, too many allergens. Don’t bring that in here, you know daddy’s going to sneeze. I have forgotten again, thinking that for some reason they would be pleased by the mangled ball of greens and fading petals and fluid drying them all rapidly together. I learned very early on that it is hard to please.
As quickly as we met, it felt you were gone. Sometimes it feels like you took all the sunshine with you. Life changes like the clouds, fluid and slow and meaningless save for a storm and I haven’t seen the colour yellow in months now. I write you now in apology; I apologise the only way I know how. If every dandelion in the world would bring you back, I would pick until my fingers bled.
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That was beautiful. The vivid pictures of childhood that came to mind reminded me of my own summers full of playing and picking flowers, oblivious to all around. Odd how things get harder when you get older. You think there's freedom in growing up when you're little, and then you get there and want to go back.
Or, you know, pick the dandelions until your fingers bled.
Wonderful story.
Hi Roxy here!
Keep it up! 
Starting off, I love the opening line! It really brings the reader into the story and makes them want to read on! The activities that you describe are ones that everyone can remember themselves doing, so good job!
I also love the last description in the first paragraph! "...as the threads of the cold months that bleed into the warm." Beautiful original description!
"The soft leather and the smell of grass and my hair heating in the deep sun, and soon I was gathering dandelions as presents to compensate for my refusing to play second base if there were flowers to pick." I think that there are too many "and"s in the sentence, it makes it kinda difficult to read! But I like the idea of the sentence.
I think that the idea of the daisy chains and your execution of the idea is lovely!
I wish that there was another paragraph or two before the last paragraph! For two reasons-firstly I like the piece! And secondly, it seems a little sudden to add this important figure and then remoove them just as suddenly, I would add a little bit more on them
But over all, good job!
This was really good!
I find it hard to really get into something but this was brilliant.
I'll definitely keep an eye out for more of your work.
Thanks!
You have a very artistic style. I love it. It almost reads like a poem. At times, your message lost some of it's clarity. I'll pick out some of the points that were a bit confusing.
I always tried to make little chains, always split down the milky centres and tried to force the stems together, splitting them up the middle more often than not.
This sentence runs on a bit. I think you did this for effect. I like the effect you are going for, but in a way it's weakened the sentence. Try breaking it up so that it's easier to digest.
Life changes like the clouds, fluid and slow and meaningless save for a storm and I haven’t seen the colour yellow in months now.
Again, I think you were going for effect here, but it came out confusing. It's towards the end where the clarity starts to get lost. I like the effect you are shooting for, but I also got a little lost and had to reread the sentence a few times to decipher it.
Now, that all aside, I love the sense of innocence and wonder you have cultivated. Your writing is very poetic. I don't often care for first person narrative, but you pulled it off with strong characterization, and your message wasn't base and selfish. The only thing story-wise that threw me for a loop came towards the end, when i realized the narrator was speaking TO someone, and not just relaying a story. Who was he talking to? The way I interpreted the story, I assumed he was talking to his mother.
Nicely done, Tori! I love your unique style. Keep up the great work.
Thanks very much! I don't love the ending at all, but yes, I wrote it sort of like it could be to a parent. I'll work on clarifying and getting the end figured out, because I don't like the tone change.
This is so beautiful! The wording brought tears to my eyes and I especially love the emotions your story makes.
"My earliest memories tend to be sunny, tend to be baseball games and building little houses out of twigs and pebbles in the bark of forgiving trees. They’re always the same temperature, late summer maybe or burning spring."
This was my favorite part, it was just to sweet and made me feel calm.
"As quickly as we met, it felt you were gone."
This part, however, did not really fit. I was quite surprised to see this. Mostly because I thought it would be about spring and summer and balls, but this was a great line nonetheless. Towards the ending, the rhythm kind of felt lost. Don't get me wrong, this is not a bad thing, I'm just pointing it out. Anyways, your grammar was great and so was your spelling and wording. Keep up the good work and don't stop writing!
GrapeNerd
Thanks! I totally agree, the ending I just sort of... I don't know exactly, but it didn't make sense even to me as I wrote it. I'll probably alter it or take it out.
I love your writing style and your tone. I sense your voice in your writing, and your writing brings emotion to the reader. Beautiful word choice. Keep up the good work!
Thank you!