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Sunday, March 7, 2021

Beautiful Winter (Flash Fiction pt. 1/2)

    We knew the way of life. It was hard, but this is how we grew up. We didn’t have anything, but it didn’t stop us from wanting everything.

    In Marysville, everyone had a designated job for the betterment of the community as a whole. A job that was assigned to you based on your abilities and your family’s status. My family had consisted of gardeners for as far back as I knew. Both of my parents were gardeners, my sister and I were both gardeners. I knew that my children would most likely also be gardeners.

    Each neighborhood in Marysville had their own public garden to attend to and we all had to hold up our end of the deal. We barely made enough money to live on, so we didn’t have the luxury of not going to work. Every day was a work day that started at dawn and didn’t end until well after dusk. It was hard work, but it had to be done. I wished for more but that was life and there were no other options.

    By the time I was done with my teenage years, I already knew how to grow everything the government would require of my family. I spent every day during the spring prepping and planting. Long summer days were for caring for the plants, harvesting those that were ready, and weeding the garden. Every day during the fall, I harvested the rest of the plants and then prepped the garden for winter. I loved spending the days with my family and with the other gardeners that we worked alongside, but what I really looked forward to was winter.

    Winter did not bring about much change in duties; just location. There was only one massive greenhouse for all of Marysville to work during the winter so all the neighborhoods worked together for those short three months. We got to expand our relationships outside of just those within our enclosed neighborhoods. My parents rekindled old friendships and my young sister met new friends. Working together in the greenhouse is how I met Mark. Mark was my age, the oldest of four children and a gardener from two neighborhoods over. We could only be together during the winter, but those short three months were what I looked forward to for the remaining nine months of the year.

    Mark and I meet near the west entrance every morning, no matter the cold or the snow; the sun barely risen. Every morning, I would arrive to find him already waiting for me, his back turned to the brisk wind and his hands cupping his mouth in an attempt to stay warm. As soon as I would step into his field of vision, Mark would envelope me in his arms. I never knew how long he waited for me. No matter how cold the morning, I instantly felt warm and safe in his arms. “Good morning,” he would whisper against my mouth before kissing me deeply. I had been meeting Mark this way for the last two months. My body learned quickly to respond to his touch; craving more. We only had precious moments before we were forced into the greenhouse for the day’s work.

    Several days out of the week Mark would find excuses to work as close to me as he possibly could. When we were separated, it was heartbreaking. I would find myself looking over my shoulder during the day to look for him. Sometimes, I would catch him staring at me, a smile spreading across his face when our eyes would meet. During our lunch break, we would share our tiny meals, splitting whatever we had between the two of us. Our arms touching, my head leaning over on his shoulder. I lived for these tiny moments. Mark was the other half of my soul, that I could only have in tiny spurts of time.

    As the days carried on, I wished for winter to last forever. Last winter (our first together) went by so much quicker than time had ever gone before. Those three months, where we learned all about each other, felt like three weeks. As the days started to get longer, spring threatened to take hold of Marysville within days. I spent my nights hoping and praying for a blizzard, just to give me more time with Mark. Whenever the snow would fall though, the warmer temperatures would allow most of it to melt away with the rising sun the following morning. Spring was inevitable, no matter how much I prayed.

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