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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/872877
Rated: E · Prose · Teen · #872877
Inspired by a painting by Monet called The Artists Garden.
Walking through a sea of sunflowers. It can’t get any better than this. Behind me sits the beautiful house I’ve grown up in, and now I surely feel grown up. The crimson bricks glow atop the petite house, and next to it lies the stables, housing our horses and chickens. Walking away from the house, it’s as if I’m walking away from my old life, even though my sister follows. As we stumble along the dirt path, we approach the carriage that will take me away. Oh, how I long to be sitting in my warm bed in the room I spent my childhood in. What would I give to sit in the cozy kitchen, sipping tea and nibbling on biscuits?

Alas, those days have changed.

Now, onto the new story of my life, a story that I will create. I will write myself as the character I’ve always made myself to be, and direct the plot wherever I want it to go. I will always take the road less traveled, as I always have. That is how I ended up here, in the sunflowers. When offered the chance to study in New York, I leapt at the chance. I’ve always lived in the country, among steer and grasses, and have never known the city life. I long to see the bright lights of the city, to walk along the crowded sidewalks. However much I loved living here, I feel I’ll love New York the same.

Still, I’m walking through the sunflowers, in my new dress and my old hat. The hat is somewhat a comfort to me, for as I’m going away, my old friend is tagging along. Saying goodbye to my sister will be the hardest part. We’ve spent every single minute together once I found out, and parting with her will be terrible. I don’t know how I’ll do it...

I reach up to touch one of the velvety petals, and my hand slowly falls to my side. I pluck one of the flowers off the stem. I walk over to my sister... oh, how young she looks. I have to try to be strong for her. I open her hand, place the sunflower around it, and gently close her fingers around it. Remember me, like you remember the sunflowers, I say, with tears in my eyes. They will always be a part of you, as am I. We embrace one another in a hug, then I turn away to walk the long walk to the carriage.

Leaving my home is hard, but staying would be even harder. Now, I’ll just have to savor every moment, as I walk through a sea of sunflowers.
© Copyright 2004 satin_tears (satin_tears at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/872877