The Rift

Chapter 11

It’s a bright summer’s evening, the sun just beginning to set, lighting the sky up with beautiful shades of pink, and casting a happy glow on the scene below.  Three people walked slowly through a small community garden, admiring the flowers that were so carefully planted here by those who wanted to add a little beauty. The smallest one, a girl, runs ahead of the other two, stopping at the plants, sniffing the delicate flowers, shrieking at the two behind her to come look at this, or smell that. But the two behind her, a man and a woman, walk at their own pace, smiling at their child’s antics, hand in hand, step by step.

The girl is young, maybe seven years old, with bright bold hair that shines blindingly in the sunlight. She has a slight frame, with a thin face, and pretty, excitement filled green eyes. She never stops smiling. Her wavy, tangled mess of hair streams out behind her as she runs from flower to flower, pressing her nose into the most impressive, plucking the ones she likes the best and adorning her hair and dress with them. She sheds the flowers as she runs, back to her parents, to show them the newest bloom that she found. The little girl loves this garden.

The parents walk behind her, smiling kindly, their faces lit up by the sunset. The mother seems to enjoy the garden as much as her daughter, examining the many flowers under her gaze. She’s dressed casually, wearing a small white tee shirt and jeans. Her hair is tucked back in a loose ponytail; strands of hair have fallen out and now hang over her eyes, or out the back. But even like this, she is beautiful. The happiness that radiates from her face, her smile, makes her beautiful. She watches her daughter with happy eyes, smiling and laughing as she skips through the garden.  She never lets go of her husband’s hand.

The father of the little girl does not spend his time admiring the garden, but instead watches his daughter, smiling proudly. He looks extraordinarily like her, the same eyes, the same face, the same excited smile. He walks beside his wife, not once taking his loving eyes off his young daughter. Watching her, not because he is worried about her safety, but because he simply loves to see her so happy. When she’s happy, so is he, simple as that.

The three of them walk slowly through the twisting path, past patches of multi-colored flowers, anywhere from red to purple, from low the ground, or as tall as the father. They see leaves of each size and shape, greens of all shades, colors brightened by the light of the low sun. The little girl is fascinated by each and every flower, giggling and smiling her way through the garden. Eventually, she finds one little flower, and leaning down, she inhales its sweet scent, and then examines its delicate petals with her young, chubby fingers.  With a gleeful snatch, she plucks it from its stem and brings the bloom back to her mother and father.

The flower is small and purple, with five small petals surrounding the stem. The plant that the flower was picked from seems to be a collection of the little flowers, a clump of them that grow together. The little girl’s parents acted as excited as she was over the little blossom, telling her what its name was, and helping her look through the plants for another one. But there wasn’t another one to be found. So the mother, with careful fingers, fixed the flower behind the girl’s ear. The child laughed with delight, and ran off, towards the centre of the garden.

The three of them walked until the sun was only a sliver on the horizon, until almost all the pink had faded from the sky, leaving the garden illuminated in the faint streams of light still coming from the west. Reaching the centre of the garden, the trio gathered on bench together, and watched the final rays of light leave the sky, sending the garden into night. The little girl, exhausted, fell asleep on her father’s shoulder, and he obediently carried her back to the house, talking in whispers with his wife. Together, the parents tucked their girl under the covers, and both whispered good night. The purple flower was still tucked behind the little girl’s ear, along with the rest she had managed to tie there. The parents left quietly, leaving their little girl to her own, peaceful sleep.