Prologue Part 1: When the Sun Shines
The grass was soft. That's something I remember well on that day. It was a Sunday. I lay there in that soft, green, spring grass, vibrant and full of life. The trees had buds on them like little green promises of Summer. Green is my favorite color, and it always has been. Green is the color of life.
Puffy white clouds floated lazily in a blue pool of sky above my head. I watched those clouds, not thinking of anything, just soaking in the warm spring sunshine.
My life was so happy then. The thought that it would ever change never crossed my mind. We lived in a yellow house with dark green shutters and a white picket fence. There were always sunflowers in the garden, big, yellow sunflowers. I remember thinking that if sunshine were turned into a house, our little cottage with the warm yellow paint and sunflowers would be it.
"Penny," Grandpa's voice called to me, gravelly and deep, but loving. I stretched and ran inside. I had never been vain, or even cared about my appearance at all. In fact, as I glanced at the hall mirror, I realized I had grass woven into my long red hair. My grandpa always said I had my mother's eyes, big and even sparkling when they caught the right light. But, of course, I wouldn't know. My father had gone to war and gotten killed, ironically, right on the day I was born. Because of that, I've always hated my birthday. My beautiful mother, Evelyn, died of grief when I was two. I never knew her as my grandfather remembered her, full of life and always laughing. All I remember is being lead to her open casket, my little hand clutched in my grandpa's big warm one, and how beautiful she looked, her brown hair cascading around her pale face.
"What's the matter, Carrots?" My Grandpa asked me, bringing me back from those painful memories. He always called me Carrots, teasing me about my flaming red hair.
"Nothing Grandpa. You look tired, let's sit down on the couch," I lead him across the gleaming, sun-drenched wood floors to the living room with the faded white couch. As he sat down I realized that he was looking… old. Of course, he was my grandpa. He was always old. But it put me off to realize just how old he was getting. I found myself unexpectedly throwing my arms around his neck. I smelled his smell of salty sunflower seeds and tobacco that he had quit long ago, but still lingered about him. I loved his smell, and it comforted me. I looked up at him and his old gray hat he always wore, the kind the men wore in New York in the 40's, with the little dent in the top. I thought of it as the Grandpa hat.
"Grandpa, I'm worried about you," I said. He just smiled and stood up to make me some tea.