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Anna longed for her father's orchards, for the sweet summer breeze and the freedom of cantering through the golden grass fields on her maple grey mare. It seemed now more than wished ever more for the days of sunlight but she could never return to them. For they would forever be a happy memory engraved within her heart and mind, for after all her mother and father were gone. And her parents would be an everlasting dream.
Mary stared down her niece at the opposite ends of the table, who was shifting her fork around her plate continuously, "Don't play with your food. Eat up. It will get cold."
"Sorry," Anna quickly mumbled, lowering her golden-haired head slightly and brought the sloppy and swimming vegetables that had been much too long in the pot to her rosy pink lips. Trying to mask her disgust of the food, she smiled but it faltered immensely. If only her Aunt would let her into the kitchen every now and then, they would have much better tasting meals.
"If you do not eat every morsel, I'll send you to bed with an empty stomach and I'll take your light bulb away."
Anna feigned with fright at Aunt Mary's words, even if she was speaking to her as if she was a little girl. Her mother and father had always encouraged her reading and pushed for her to get an education before they had passed. This would have never happened if the blasted war never happened. Anna and her parents would be back home and there would be laughter and smiles.
Her Aunt Mary's small council house was always so cold and dark and colourless. It seemed her Aunt was too, as it very much reflected her personality. The old woman never smiled or laughed. She had a permeant frown sculpted upon her face. Her grey eyes hard and lifeless and her blond hair was dim, peppered with grey. She was bony, scrawny and withered but perhaps long ago she could have been very pretty.
Anna just wondered how her aunt had ended up like this. From what she could remember her father always spoke fondly of his older sister, a fiery woman who ambulated the definition of happiness and joy. But somehow she was opposite of that.
Maybe it was the turmoil and tragedy of the world war?
"Did you have a nice day, Aunty? Mine was splendid. School was lovely," Anna spoke, switching her fork to a spoon to better eat the sloshy meal and taking a sip of water from her metal cup.
"No," She spoke gravely, her voice hoarse and gritted.
"Perhaps, latter if you'd like we'd could have a game of cards––"
"No, girl. I'm busy," Her Aunt's words carved through Anna like a knife. She tried and tried but her Aunt wouldn't budge. Like an old and ancient unmoving rock she was.
Anna's blue eyes burned with tears and she turned back towards her half eaten meal, willing herself to eat it much quicker and escape her Aunt's presence, "Very well. Next time. . . perhaps."
