Raindrops

• Phoebe Lawlor, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2016

I woke up. Raindrops were spluttering onto the windows and the roof. I got dressed, grabbed some bread and my raincoat, said goodbye to mum and then went to the creek. I went down to the creek every day. I loved it down there. There was a little slide in the dirt that I could walk down, leading me to the bank. The creek was full with litter, which saddened me, but it was still beautiful, and the ducks seemed to like it, so I was happy. I fed my bread to the ducks. They knew me, and I fed them every day, so before I had even got my bag out they were next to me, waiting. I saw that there were three new little baby ducklings. They had that look written all over them, wide eyes, surprised and a little overwhelmed but happy. One of them wandered away, and his mother had to sprint across the water to drag him back to the bread. After I had watched the ducks for a bit, I climbed back onto the path and headed home.
Mum was watching the rain fall onto the windows. She had a sad look on her face and in her eyes. That look had been plastered across her face ever since dad left. Our old life had been wonderful. Every Saturday we would go to the park, and every Sunday Dad and Me would wake up early to make a surprise breakfast in bed. Sometimes it took a little longer than expected, as we would burn the toast, or forget to put coffee in the mug and give it to mum, empty. Mum just laughed it off as dad slipped away to make it again. Every day was perfect, until the fights started. They would never fight around me, as they didn’t want me to know what was going on, but I was a noticeable kid. They would shout at each other every night, when they thought I was asleep, but one day, I woke up, and dad wasn’t there any more.
I decided to talk to her. “It’s ok mum,” I said. “What? What’s ok?” she replied, slightly confused. “Oh, nothing,” I murmured, “you’ve just got a really sad look on your face.” “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled. “Mum, I miss him too,” I slumped, and then we both burst into tears.
The next day I told mum I was going down to the creek, but I turned the other way. I took the bus, and got out at stop fifteen. Then I walked down the street and knocked on the door of number eight. “Hello dad,” I said. He asked me if Mum was with me. I told him that she wasn’t, and he let me in. Then I told him how sad mum has been since he left, and maybe, if he went to see her, it might make things a bit better.
So he followed me home.