A Child's Love

• Emily Cassar, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2015

His mother may have been gone, but the trail they had always walked together, would be imprinted in his mind forever. Leaving his weatherboard cottage, he walked until he could see the glittering water between the gossiping clusters of trees. He tiptoed along the rocky edge of the lake and when he reached the big rock beneath the cliff, he sat and looked out towards the old woman’s home, which rested near the water’s edge on the opposite side of the lake. Sometimes he would see her, though she never saw him, for he had skin the colour of the moist earth that slipped between his toes and was lost in the scenery.
On this particular Sunday, the old woman stood with her back to the boy and as he watched, a young girl skipped down from the house holding a hammer; rather than think about how much he missed his mother, he watched the two put the hammer to work on a pile of wood. As the sky began losing its lovely azure blue to an ominous purple, the old woman and girl finished their work and stepped back to admire it. The boy could now see that they had made twin chairs that sat low to the ground and had high, arched backs. The two stayed only a moment before leaving for the brightly lit cottage and the boy strolled peacefully home, his mind fully at ease for the first time in months.
In search of the old woman, and who he presumed was her granddaughter, he came back the next day, but isolation had returned and the chairs were empty. He came back every day that week anxiously awaiting their return. Finally, on the following Sunday, they returned and once again he watched them. The two reminded him of the love that he had shared with his mother and as he watched, he thought that maybe he still held that love within him.
The boy came back every Sunday and sat with them, but on the other side of the lake. As the leaves fell off the trees, a Sunday came when they did not come. He came back week after week but could only see emptiness and his loneliness returned.
Another Sunday came and the boy found one chair filled: with the sobbing granddaughter; so he walked the distance that would take him to the twin chairs. When he reached her, she turned suddenly, “Who are you?” The boy spoke of how he had watched her and the old woman and the girl began to sob. He went to comfort her but she only screamed at him to leave her and go back to his rock beneath the cliff.
Once more, the boy came back to his rock. The girl was not there, and the old woman’s chair lay sadly on its side in the lake. It was time to go back to his cottage and accept he no longer had his mother but his memories.