• Mama was screaming at the top of her lungs again. It was 1:09 in the morning but I had been awake for hours waiting for her to tone down. It had been drizzling since early evening, but now it was really coming down. But it would pass, just like all April storms.

    Mama wailed again and I gave up on trying to fall asleep and instead channeled my energy into reading a tattered copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare. I had just reached the section in which Hermia, the beautiful maiden, escapes with her lover, Lysander, in order to stray from a marriage with the loathed Demetrius.

    This play caused me mixed emotions. Partially because of the confusion, and partially because of the distinction between good and evil. But, then again, good and evil were not the same things as right and wrong. It was wrong for Hermia's father to force an unwanted marriage on her, but it wasn't really evil. Back then it was custom! And it was right for Hermia to run away because it was wrong to get married to Demetrius. But it wasn't technically good.

    A boom of thunder interrupted my thoughts, followed by a smack of lightening that set the room aglow with silvery light. I chill went down my back as Mama screeched with pain. A pang of worry flooded my stomach. It felt somewhat like going to a birthday party and eating so much cake you feel you could explode. This was a subtle feeling. It was heavier and settled at the bottom of my stomach, throbbing.

    I felt the sudden urge to race to Mama, but Father had warned me to leave the doctors and Mama alone. I wanted Mama well so I grudgingly agreed I would not interfere or be of nuisance in any way.

    As it was, the nearest hospital was forty-one miles away, and, as it was, my family did not own a automobile. We did, however, own a working tractor, but even that was put away in the barn for drier weather. There really was no need for a vehicle. Everything was right where we wanted it. We normally harvested enough crops in autumn to last us 'till spring. So there was no need for a grocery store. Then, Mama owned the schoolhouse just a mile away where all the neighborhood kids went. So there was no need to go to town for the elementary school. No need to leave.

    And also, when Father called the hospital to take Mama, they were hardly in the mood to travel all the way down here and back in this weather, so they settled with bringing the hospital here.

    It was suddenly very pleasant, and I was sure I was falling asleep. I fell, acceptingly.


    Only a week had gone by, and the trees were already budding. The snow and slush had all melted away. The daffodils were blooming in the garden, along with the tulips and wildflowers. The dull fields were alive. The empty acres were carpeted with fresh green grass and flowers dotted the landscape. The riverbank was no longer bare but colorful with the spring. The birds were back and singing beautiful songs.

    Mama's favorite. Mama's favorite season was spring. Better than summer or autumn or winter. Spring. And her favorite part was, not this, but the cherry blossoms. The little pink flowers looked off against our black garments. A few blossoms floated downward and dressed the tombstone.

    I forced a smile because, of course, the tree was mourning, too. Baby Elsbeth hugged a bouquet of freshly picked lilies to her chest and tossed them atop the grave. She clutched Father's knees and he flinched. A tear trickled down his cheek. It sparkled in the sun.

    He quickly kissed us each on the forehead so he could go take a walk to, "clear his mind". He wandered off over the dirt road.

    I pulled Elsbeth up so I could hug her. She tugged at a lose strand of hair that had fallen from behind my ear. She played with it and kicked her legs restlessly. Tears wet my cheeks and poured uncontrollably down my face. I rocked Elsbeth gently on my shoulder and she fell asleep with her thumb in her mouth.

    Elsbeth had just taken her first steps two days ago. Mama never got to see her little Elsie walk. Mama will never see her babies grow up. My tears wet Elsbeth's blond curls. I wiped them with the sleeve of my black blouse. Mama's blouse. A hand-me-down. Mama was big on recycling. I tried desperately to fade into the atmosphere, but I felt a sharp pang of desire.

    Without warning I took off in the fields, causing dandelion fuzzies to go up in a flurry at my feet. I raced, frantically. Sprinted. All along Elsbeth bobbed at my shoulder, holding on tightly. I searched. Looked. Where was Mama? Why wasn't she home safe, yet? I couldn't wait to tell her my day. I wanted to embrace her and never let her go!

    "Rose!" a soft velvet voice broke my rampage. Soft, like Mama's.
    "Rose! Rose! Elsbeth! Rose! Where are you?" rough now. I recognized it as my Father's voice. I turned simultaneously towards him, but he wasn't visible in my daze. I was in a frenzy. Where was he? Why wasn't he coming? Did not he want to see Mama? I wanted to invite him on my quest to find her.

    Elsbeth kicked restlessly in my arms, so I let her go, grateful for the relief of weight. She ran to Father's voice. I could hear it softly fading. Where was she going? Wrong way! I wanted to scream to her. Instead I ran after her. It was without warning. Her little legs carried her with such speed. I followed her desperately. As I rounded the hill I saw her. I felt relief, and then joy.


    There was Elsbeth. There she was - smelling the cherry blossoms.