Good morning, friends! Isn't it wonderful to wake up with a fresh start every day? I decided to post something a little different today, so here is a short snippet I wrote for a writing challenge (it's based off the picture!). I hope you enjoy it!

Tally ho!

Rachael Anne

The Tea Party

Footprints followed him through the dew-drenched glade. A red bird trilled almost directly overhead, scolding him for disturbing the quiet of a hundred years. But he didn’t listen. He waved to the bird and kept walking. 

He hadn’t noticed before, but the glade had surely been touched by time. It wasn’t as obvious as a railroad cut through the countryside or a deforestation project. It was subtle: trees leaning over the glade instead of standing upright, moss covering spaces that had been pools the last time he walked here. Oh, it saddened him. He hated to think that a place so idyllic - a place so far removed from everyday life - could possibly have changed.

Had it only been two years?

He stepped between two massive maples, smiling up at the treehouse still nestled among their branches, and finally came to the spot that haunted his dreams. There was nothing magical or out of the ordinary about it, unless a little table made of discarded boards was extraordinary. There were no chairs; the frequenters of the spot had long outgrown the originals. But what made him pause was the presence of girlish care. 

He wasn’t the first visitor in the last two years.

A flowered tablecloth hung over the boards, just as it had long before. Bunches of wildflowers - daisies, orchids, buttercups - adorned the little setting without seeming overbearing to his male senses. A lump came to his throat as he took in the flower vase, the simple plastic tea set, and the little plate of strawberries. Everything was here, just as he remembered. The only thing that was missing - that would always be missing - was her.

A drop fell from his eye to join the dew at his feet. 

Something rustled at the edge of the clearing, disturbing the moment that should have been his alone. A tear-tousled face, hair full of leaves, appeared between two bushes to smile hesitantly at him. “I thought you might come today.”

He smiled, unable to be upset with the only other person who had loved her like he did. “Megs.”

The gangly twelve-year-old squeezed out of her hiding place and came to stand next to him. She had changed too: blond hair now almost white with sunshine; straight teeth once encased in braces; healthy brown skin that would have rivaled any outdoorsman. She looked so much like her that it hurt. Oh, how it hurt. 

“I can’t believe it’s been a year,” Megs said softly.

Neither could he. His heart swelled as he thought of how homey the entire clearing was, how perfect Megs had made it. This was where he’d met her sister not so long ago. This was where they’d had their first tea party, where he’d introduced her to his pet frogs while she shrieked with laughter. This was the spot where they had done homework and wrote letters to each other. This was the spot he’d told her he was going on a new adventure, one that he may not return from for a long time. 

He walked to the spot where she had made him promise to come back. The spot where they had held hands for the very first time.

The spot where she had leaned over and whispered, “I love you.”

A small hand slipped into his the same instant he realized he was crying. Megs reached up to brush the moisture away, biting her lip to keep her own tears from falling. “She’s happy up there,” she said. “Up with Jesus, you know.”

His heart was too full to speak, but he nodded to tell her he agreed. It didn’t matter if ten years had passed instead of one; he knew he would always miss her. He looked at the table again, at the two teacups positioned just as they had left them last. As if summoned by his tears a little ray of sunlight broke through the canopy above to shine on her cup. 

It made his look so dark, so alone without the light on it. 

Just as he knew his heart would be until he saw her again.