By Mayumi Soul
She sat on the bench in her family’s garden twiddling the hem of her dress as she patiently waited. For what exactly, she didn’t know. Earlier, she had come out because she felt extremely sick. Her father was busy and wouldn’t bother to care for her. She was always very sickly, and never truly got care for it. She thought if she sat outside instead of sitting in her room whilst the maids came in and out to clean and organize, she would feel better. But nothing had changed. She looked around trying to see if she could catch a bunny looking for strawberries, or a bee pollinating a rose. Nothing. Just birds asking each other why the day seems to drag on so slowly. She sniffled. She wondered why there seemed to be nothing exciting to distract her today unlike every other day.
The summer sun kissed her sunhat that covered her head, shoulders, arms, and thighs. Her aunt had given it to her for her birthday, but had forgotten that she was young and small. The sunhat was very large, and she loved it of course. The fact that it was so large made her love it more. She loved that it provided more shade to keep her cool. Two coughs made their way out of her. A small gust of wind breezed past her shoulder, and gave her a small shiver. She sneezed. The small wind slightly rustled the greenery, and surprisingly, that was the most exciting thing she had seen all day.
Her family’s enormous Victorian home that sat behind her added no shade, despite its height. The silence became deafening, so she let out a large exhale. After that came a cough. Her attempt to add noise to the silent world didn’t help much, because the sound of that exhale echoed through her mind. She wanted a different distraction. She got up and walked slowly to the other side of the garden, where a small radio sat waiting to be used. She brought it back over to her spot and turned the knob until the static stopped. Another cough. Nocturne in E flat by Chopin played. She knew the song by heart. She had heard it all the time as she grew up, and learned it during her piano lessons. She heard it all the time, yet she never got sick of it. She let out a cough. The song surrounded her, and she felt like she was wrapped in a comfortable knit blanket. She slowly began to doze off. She dreamt that her mother held her hand and walked her off to a beautiful palace where the beautiful Nocturne played day in and day out.
Her father had finally finished his work. He came out to tell her, but when he saw her, she was limp. He let out a small sigh. He sat on the bench next to her. There were no more small coughs, no more sneezes, no more sniffles. She was quiet. He had lifted her and placed her on his lap. He held her silent body and rocked back and forth to the tempo of her favorite song playing. He turned up the volume of the radio and tried to rest with her in his arms, as this would be the last time he could hold her. He was silently looking down at her, and when he finally looked up, he saw a bunny scurry past to get to the strawberries, and he heard the faint buzzing of a bee pollinating the roses.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kj3CHx3TDzw
