I sat there for awhile, watching as the three of them faded into the night. I sat on that rock and burned the image into my brain. I needed to remember this. Not because I wanted to follow them, I did not, but because I wanted to remember that I was the innocent one here and no one could blame me for what I had done.
I was always aware that I was odd. I liked plants for one, better than people really. I could take care of them, talk to them and they would listen. I liked to sing to them in the morning and watch them ‘dance’ in the sunlight.
my ‘mothering instincts’, relics from my ancestors, were not wasted.
I was hopeful in the beginning, but soon my hopes for someone to shower my illicit affection on were dashed in the name of ‘progress’.
The first was a girl, she had her father’s eyes but hair like mine, red and wild. They told me she suffered too much and was put down.
In little ways, I mourned her. I kept her blanket close as a kerchief for my tears.
The second, a boy, was a quiet baby but at two years he was taken while he was at school. I still trip over blocks that are not left lying around.
By this point, I was desperate and being watched more closely but I still had hope.
I could not have any more children I had decided.
It was too painful in the end on both sides.
This was my last chance, then I would content myself with my potted plants.
I gave birth to a girl again, red hair and green eyes which flashed with fire.
I knew what should happen next but I couldn’t let the caretakers have her, I kept her with me and brought her home.
I waited for them to come but I was trembling when a quiet knock came to the door.
A man and woman came into my domicile.
They asked if I wanted my daughter to live.
They were stern but gentle in their persuasion.
They would take her and she would live.
So, I sit here watching as the three of them leave me, my daughter and two strangers.
And I hope for the first time in a long time and pray I will not see her again.