Snowdrops
It snowed as I neared my due date; great, fat flakes falling heavily to the ground, blanketing everything in sight, silencing every sound. The baby stirred inside me.
‘Not yet my child. It's not yet time.' By morning we would be snowed in. ‘All will be well,' I told her quietly. ‘All will be well!' I told myself.
The image of snowdrops popped into my mind. They'd be up soon, forcing their way through the snow. Born survivors. I pulled the shawl round my shoulders and stepped outside, into the cold whiteness, my hand smoothing my stomach.
‘Do you feel that, my little one?' Stillness. Calm. I felt the baby move her tiny little feet and smiled.
Two days later the snow was gone. So were you, my precious one — into the stillness and calm — and my garden was covered in snowdrops, remembering you.
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Author's Note
Snow falling, snowdrops emerging - as a memory did - inspired this story. I wrote it during a 12 hour marathon writing session, on a prompt. It was later published in the anthology 'Against The Clock', sold in aid of the Alzheimer Society in the UK, then in my short story collection Tea Time Morsels.
Marit, there is so much emotion in this slow, steady, short piece --- the ending took my breath away.
A very poignant piece, Marit, beautifully written.
I love the way she talks to her unborn child.‘Do you feel that, my little one?' Stillness. Calm.
Heart rending story Marit. Loved it. Fave
Oh, so well done, poignant, sadly lovely.
A lot of love in this tiny thing. Wonderful.
“and my garden was covered in snowdrops, remembering you” – It’s painful, moving, and beautiful all at once. This quiet ending image really resonates.
Hauntingly beautiful.
Heart.
Heart.
Hi, Marit. Catching up on your stories. This is very effective in its sadness. *