Status: I wrote this one summer after meeting the inspiration of this story. Maybe you can find out who is it :):):)
Emerald Eyes
Mrs. Anna Lee Stream
Years passed I grew more insecure with myself. I started school in a private school. I hardly talked to anyone except for Summer and Natalie. Natalie Breen was a quiet girl I once knew, but she moved away by the time I was in fourth grade.
My Dad finally broke the news to me when I was nine. At first I was heartbroken and deeply saddened. I stayed home from school for two days, only to accept the truth. I couldn’t believe my Mom passed away. My Dad wanted to wait a few years until I was older. I asked him why we had to leave Santa Barbara. My Dad said he couldn’t bear to live there any longer, because it brought back too many painful memories. My parents though, when I was born, owned a house in Newport, which they planning to live in. It would be the house we’d reside in during my teen years. But plans changed on that fateful night when I never saw my Mother again.
My Dad and visited her grave together for the first time when I was eleven. I was scared, because I had never been to a cemetery before. My Dad told me her funeral was one week after the accident. I do remember one day when my maternal grandparents came to visit in Santa Barbara. My paternal grandfather came too. My dad’s mother died years ago when he was in college. They all looked despaired and distressed. Everyone was wearing black and my Dad paid a babysitter to stay with me that day. My Dad said I was too young to attend a funeral, but he did mention me when he spoke of her eulogy.
I read the imprinted letters on the marble tombstone. “Here lies Anna Lee Stream.” I placed the roses by the tombstone and stood back, allowing my father to placed his arms on my shoulders. Roses were her favorite flower.
I tried to fall back asleep, this time trying to remember a positive thought. My eyes opened again, and the sky was orange from my bedroom window. I turned to my right and alarm clock read: “6:23.” I slowly got out of bed. I looked at my slender self in the mirror and reached for my robe. My house was always quiet, because it was only me and my Dad.
I wanted to ask him why he opted for a vast home, but I already knew the answer to that question. I walked down the long, circular staircase. I was expecting to be alone, but my Dad was busy reading on the large cream sofa in family room. He is a therapist. My Dad was always quiet and gentle-mannered. He looked up when I was walking towards the family room.
“Good morning,” he said. I wanted to respond, but I sighed softly.
“I had the nightmare again,” I said. My Dad frowned and took off his reading glasses. He set his book down and faced me,
“Ava Marie, You know she loved you,” my father said.
I nodded, “I know,” I said softly.
My Dad finally broke the news to me when I was nine. At first I was heartbroken and deeply saddened. I stayed home from school for two days, only to accept the truth. I couldn’t believe my Mom passed away. My Dad wanted to wait a few years until I was older. I asked him why we had to leave Santa Barbara. My Dad said he couldn’t bear to live there any longer, because it brought back too many painful memories. My parents though, when I was born, owned a house in Newport, which they planning to live in. It would be the house we’d reside in during my teen years. But plans changed on that fateful night when I never saw my Mother again.
My Dad and visited her grave together for the first time when I was eleven. I was scared, because I had never been to a cemetery before. My Dad told me her funeral was one week after the accident. I do remember one day when my maternal grandparents came to visit in Santa Barbara. My paternal grandfather came too. My dad’s mother died years ago when he was in college. They all looked despaired and distressed. Everyone was wearing black and my Dad paid a babysitter to stay with me that day. My Dad said I was too young to attend a funeral, but he did mention me when he spoke of her eulogy.
I read the imprinted letters on the marble tombstone. “Here lies Anna Lee Stream.” I placed the roses by the tombstone and stood back, allowing my father to placed his arms on my shoulders. Roses were her favorite flower.
I tried to fall back asleep, this time trying to remember a positive thought. My eyes opened again, and the sky was orange from my bedroom window. I turned to my right and alarm clock read: “6:23.” I slowly got out of bed. I looked at my slender self in the mirror and reached for my robe. My house was always quiet, because it was only me and my Dad.
I wanted to ask him why he opted for a vast home, but I already knew the answer to that question. I walked down the long, circular staircase. I was expecting to be alone, but my Dad was busy reading on the large cream sofa in family room. He is a therapist. My Dad was always quiet and gentle-mannered. He looked up when I was walking towards the family room.
“Good morning,” he said. I wanted to respond, but I sighed softly.
“I had the nightmare again,” I said. My Dad frowned and took off his reading glasses. He set his book down and faced me,
“Ava Marie, You know she loved you,” my father said.
I nodded, “I know,” I said softly.
♠ ♠ ♠
Ava's POV ends here. The next few chapters will be told from Asher's point of view.