The Storm

The Storm

The once lovely blue sky was now hidden behind a curtain of black, ominous clouds. It would rain, and she was ready. With her disheveled black hair buried in the depths of her black hood and her rain boots reaching high up to the dirt stains on her blue jeans, she grabbed the back pack, slung it over her shoulder, and walked out into the darkening field. Despite the impending storm she did not run nor jog. She only walked with a steadfast gaze. It seemed hours before she reached the graveyard; hours that had been spent pouring over anxiety and happiness that had overshadowed her these past several months. There it was. Sitting between the rose bush and the rusted gate was the brand new headstone of pristine white marble inscribed with his name with a tiny marble lamb resting on the top. She slowly made her way over through the dried leaves and older, molded headstones to this one. Thunder resounded across the sky, and she knew she had to hurry. Within seconds she retrieved the blanket and the tiny outfit from the backpack and placed them on the headstone. Before leaving the graveyard, she traced her finger over his name and said a prayer for her baby boy. The rain came down in torrents soaking through her sweatshirt and dripping from her finger tips, but she still only walked. Her silent tears mingled with the rain drops as she remembered his tiny, precious being lost forever. A sixteen-year-old should not bear this pain.