The little dark-skinned girl gazes at the dainty clump of flowers at her feet. It's very hard not to notice them, with their bright cheerful yellow standing out against the plain grass. They've been springing out everywhere lately.
Rue.
It must mean the brutal winter is at last drawing to a close, and spring is coming to warm their cold bodies. At least that's what her siblings say. They all seem very sad about it for some reason, though. She doesn't know why, but the little girl feels sad too. The word "rue" rings a bell somewhere in her small head. It brings to mind a sense of familiarity, warmth and love. Careful fingers running through her hair, untangling the knots. Cool hands soothing her when she runs a fever. A soft, lovely voice singing her to sleep at night.
The little girl doesn't know why she starts crying, plopping down on chubby little legs and tearing the rue from the earth. There's no one to notice her distress, though, because all the others are hard at work and she is too little to work.
The little girl can remember, though. Faintly, like looking through foggy glass, she can remember the strange woman who spoke in a funny voice, calling out the names from a big stage. She can remember Momma starting to cry, and everyone around gasping and looking terrified, giving Rue looks of overwhelming terror. And she remembers, just barely, Rue giving her a little kiss goodbye.
And now, one year later, her little brain not developed enough to hold onto memories from such and early time, it makes her even sadder that she has to strain to remember Rue's sweet voice, her gentle touch, and her pretty face. She wishes Rue hadn't had to go. She wonders where Rue went, where the strange people took her. She vaguely remembers seeing Rue on the television, her family looking hopeful while she walked through a forest with another girl, a bigger girl, but that doesn't seem very important. She just knows that she won't be seeing Rue again for a very, very long time. She gives the yellow flowers a kiss, and carefully lays them down.
"Bye-bye, Rue." She says aloud to nothing in particular, and then gets up and hobbles away on her little toddler legs, never even looking back to the rue in the meadow. She may not understand exactly where or why Rue went away, but she has said goodbye to her big sister who will always be with her in her heart. She may be just three years old and the least knowledgeable and experienced of her siblings, but she just may be the wisest. The rue in the meadow, it will grow and wilt and grow back again, but the Rue in the little girl's mind will be ever preserved as the dainty flower in full bloom. The rue in the meadow, it's not permanent. But Rue in the girl's heart is.