Irene

What was I doing here? Though I’d told myself multiple times that I would not, could not, ever come back here again, here I stood in the middle of what had been the beginning of my worst nightmare. I’d always joked to her that we were tied to this place with a rope made of steel, the majestic tree that stood in the heart of the field always trying to pull us back in when it was time to leave. It seemed my words had come back to haunt me. My heart squeezed as I looked towards the towering tree, it had been her most favourite thing in the field. A soft breeze swept through making the blood red poppies dance around me. The wind seemed to gently push me forward to the tree that seemed to beckon me. My legs shook as I stepped forward, each step sending a short, sweet stab of pain up my already unstable legs. My breathing was hard by the time I touched the rough bark of the trees stump. She’d loved climbing the tree, her small hands grabbing the low hung branches only, because that was all her abilities and I had allowed her to do. I slipped off my sandals, suddenly feeling the need to climb, the need to be with her once again. I climbed with ease, remembering the same path we took every time. Grabbing the last limb, I sat atop the highest branch we’d climbed together and choked back my tears. The white ribbon she’d last worn was still tied around a small twig sprouting from the branch, though now it was covered with splashes of dirt. I closed my eyes against the flood of memories that seemed to drown me. I shook my head trying to forget the guilt, the pain I felt, but it continued to bombard me. My heart was throbbing and tears began to escape my eyes. The landscape that would have brought anyone joy, that had brought me joy, was now tearing up my insides. I couldn’t do this any longer, I needed to leave. As I turned to scale down the tree I was stopped by a small inscription I had missed on my way up. A small heart was carved onto the tree and inside read ‘MUMMY’. A great scream escaped me as if the tree had pierced me in the heart. Great wrenching sobs tore out of me as I imagined her carving this with a big grin on her face just before she fell to the ground plummeting to a deep sleep which a year’s worth of intensive care could not wake her from. It had all happened too quickly, we had been lying down for a nap as we always did, the poppies dancing in the wind as they did now. I had woken alone and had instantly gone searching for her, running to the tree where she always was. I called her name just once, and with a scream she landed in front of me, eyes shut, as if she was just asleep. The wound I thought I had mended burst open as I recalled the memory. I scrambled down the tree needing to escape the torture. As I ran, leaving my sandals behind and trampling over the flowers, I felt the breeze transform into a strong wind that seemed to make the tree howl in pain and the flowers quiver in anger. I ran as hard and fast as I could, not caring where I went, needing to escape the suffocating beauty of the field. //FROM MRS LOW: A beautiful and heart-rending description Irene. You have captured well the dual nature of the field/tree as both alluring and devastating for the mother. You have also drawn the reader in and then given us the back story through memory. Well done on evoking a strong mood.//