If Lies Were Petals Suivre l’histoire

In a meadow full of sunflowers and muddy waters splashing underneath my dirty rain boots, came sunshine through the sunrise. There had been a thunderstorm the night before. There were water droplets on the trees and healthy, tall, green grass all throughout the meadow too.

I knew it all too well. It was my father's soft, cool meadow. He had, long ago, bought. It was my home for a while until he died just 14 years later.

As you've could have guessed I am 14 years old. As my birthday was just a few weeks ago. I still have my mother, but she hasn't been home much because she has been taking care of the farm and gardening all day long.

The thing that reminds me of my dad the most was the bench that we would occasionally go to to talk about anything. Sometimes we wouldn't even talk, we would just sit and listen to humming birds hum and dogs barking in the distance. It was the best when we would go at night to that very same bench and look at the stars.

Stars to me were not just for looking at, they were something else. Something more. They were what life is to most people. But, without my dad they are...nothing. Just nothing.