To The Soil
9 roses in her hand.
9 roses that cannot stand.
1 rose falls to the soil.
The single rose, becomes pure as oil.
You know how some people wake up and are completely renewed and full of energy? I am not one of these people. I woke with a start and bolted into a sitting position on the bed. My eyes felt heavy and a cold sweat had broken out across my body. I had another nightmare. I quickly brushed it off and went through my daily routine. After I had showered and dressed out of my clothes from yesterday, I walked out of the house. It was early autumn. It was a crisp morning and the leaves were just starting to turn into faint colors of brown, yellow, and red. Have you ever noticed that life goes on? It will completely leave you behind. If you receive news that may seem catastrophic to you, someone else may be having the best day of their life. Your life could be completely changed and the world continues on. The leaves will change, people will age, and plants will grow, even after your gone. You then realized that you are not irreplaceable to the world. It always moves on. I cleared my mind. I needed to stay focused. I made my way down the sidewalk with the nine roses in my hand. I knew where I was going first. I had the path memorized. I went here all the time.
Once I had reached my destination, I calmly walked past the iron gates that towered above me and casted intimidating shadows created by the sun that brought no warmth to the cool fall day. As I walked along the winding path and passed the countless rows of headstones, graves, and others loved deceased, it began to sprinkle. Before I reached my mother's plot, thoughts and memories resurfaced and danced throughout my head. They took me back to a time where I was happy and safe. Where nothing could hurt me. I was completely safe. I was completely delusional. I finally reached the grave and knelt. I slowly ran my fingers along the slab of concrete with the weathered writing of my mother's life etched onto it. The last few memories I had of her ran through my head. The hospital, the sirens, the lights. It was all too much for anyone to handle. I gripped my roses in my hand, and held on as though they were my life line so I could prevent the tears that were threatening to spill over. Crying is a luxury I no longer have. Once the memories buried themselves again and I no longer felt the prickling of the warm liquid in the backs of my eyes, I lessened my grip. The roses then drooped in my hand. One single rose leaned too far and tumbled to the damp soil. I then realized that my surroundings and myself were now becoming soaked by the rain. I quickly hid the roses from the rain. But.. it wasn't rain. The liquid that was falling from the sky I then noticed was dark, sticky, and grotesque. It was a form of acid rain.
The roses in my coat were protected, but the one that had fallen in front of the grave was being pelted and drowned mercilessly by the rain. I felt a twinge of sadness, but it quickly dissipated. This was the cycle of life. The rain was coming down harder now. The once pure red rose that was so beautiful, was now turning a sickly shade of black. It began to look slick and almost... oily. The once innocent rose was now tainted. I could have saved it. But instead I stood, and left the graveyard.
I had nothing to do for the rest of the day since my rose was placed. So I decided today would be a day of peace. I walked through the town and watched as the world moved on and memories flodded my mind once again. I did that the rest of the day. Once I was to my house, I finally fell asleep to surprisingly, a dreamless slumber.