Behavior of Shadows - a MPHFPC Inspired Story

A Peculiar Beginning

On the first anniversary of my sister's death, I sat in my room for three hours.

Time seemed to lay still in my space as I remained propped up against my dresser as looked, unfocused and dazed, towards the direction of my open window. The summer breeze caught in my lengthy hair as I sat cross legged on the floor. Wind blew through the branches of the tree before my window — the limbs swaying hypnotically as they went.

     A year had gone since the summer of my sister's passing and now I could walk by my sister's room and give a saddened smile, but having the house all to myself was still a strange feeling that I wasn't sure I would ever get used to.

    My parents had decided to separate and I was very glad of it. After their youngest daughter's death, their fighting had gotten worse, so I went to grieve my best friend's death at my grandparents' house.

    My decision of having this temporary visit wasn't put to much debate, seeing that there was plenty of fight already in action and I knew only more trauma and regret would come from all parties if I stayed.

    When my mother finally called, she first contacted my grandmother to could inform her of the new plan for her and me.

     My mom would move in with her mother and I would move back home to stay with my father, so my grandmother wouldn't need to clean up after my visit, since my place would be taken soon after the funeral.

    For awhile, my mom slept in my sister's room and my dad stayed in theirs. Eventually, the funeral came and went, so items had to be sorted and memories had to be taken with them.

    I had helped arrange the funeral and sort my sister's things with my parents: a task they achieved with harsh words being replaced by tears.

     Together, the three of us went through what should be given away and who should receive it, but my parents left it up to me to decide what to do with the room once the bed was moved out.

    I decided it was best for it to be made a small house library that also held the remaining toys we used to play with together. The two of us had always loved books and I knew we had enough for a library between our once separate collections.

    By the time my mom officially moved out, it had been made my study room for when school started and soon it didn't matter how the room was arranged, I just wanted things to be the way they were.

    The adjustment wasn't easy but with time came a new routine, and soon I'd grow used to driving an hour away to see my mom on weekends.

    It was during that time that I started to believe in the love of the universe and appreciated seeing the sun move through the clouds, back and forth, as I sat in the old room that used to belong to my best friend.

    Nature was something that my sister had never enjoyed. And yet, I thought of her whenever I tried to return to the shine of the summer that had stretched endlessly by.

No amount of natural time would have been enough for me to move on. Yet, somehow, sitting there — when my father was at work — I began to find calm in my process.

Grief crept through me easily. Now, it was nearly done with its routine journey. It was like the clouds that drifted by. Sometimes the darkness would gather and rain would fall. Other times, sky peaked through the blur and light would escape past the puffs of faded grey.

    It was at these times that I had realized that, unlike the rest of my home, the woods near my house had always felt safe and full of comfort.

    The small forest closest to the house had once been connected to the great multitude of trees that grew across the crop fields. Past the rows of corn and beans, deer lived free and a creek flowed windingly. There were great trees at its center that reached the highest towards the sky, spotted the humans from afar.