Creative Writing Pieces

Sunflowers & Rainboots

*picture y piece, y'all understand*

Her boots where the one continuity in her life that she actually liked, different from the burnt orange curls and splatter painted constellations on her face that she was stuck with. Already seen as a strange being, people's stares of disdain would continue to follow her as she got older. Stares that didn't seem to understand that all of those rain boots lining the printed plastic wood near the rain leaking seams of the door meant a lot to her.
They reminded her of her mother and the endless fields of sunflowers during the summer. When a storm came bringing with it warm air and the scent of thunder that molds the dry earth in mixed floods, she would drag her mother outside, clad in matching boots, and play a never ending game of tag.
She remembered the time where the day was exactly like that. Freshly cooled and bathed in the showers of air, the grounds were slushed with water. She was six. Running through the seven foot giants with their golden halos, she stretched her arms out as if they were wings, letting her giggles bounce off the currents. Growing tired, and wondering how she had not been tagged yet caused her to stop, putting her hands onto her knees, breathing deeply. She rose, circling around herself trying to spot her mother, but her small size compared to the flowers kept swallowing her and the cries for her mother. As she got back onto the main path bordering the fields she saw her mother laying on the ground. Days later, after her father had come back from a business trip, she was admitted into a hospital. The man walked back out with his crying child in arms.
They moved shortly after, giving the place to some relatives. The first time she had moved away from the sunflowers she was six and a half, trading them for even bigger steel ones, and the second when she went to university at seventeen, she had only two suitcases. One for the necessities and the second for her photos and rain boots.
Every year on the same week of summer she would mark her calendar for her trip back to the fields. Taking only a small duffle and two pairs of her boots, she would go see her parents who were always waiting upon the sunset enveloped hills, dressed in their finest and not being bothered by the cold slithering through their bodies.
Wearing the last pair of boots that they together had bought for her she began to read the letter she had written of that year aloud to them, always ending with "Love, Your Daughter, Raina" and "I miss you"'s.
Tired of the buildings that surrounded her continuously, she decided to go back to the farm permanently. She is now twenty-six, with a husband named Nolan and a four year old daughter named Mabel. When the long car ride was over Mabel dashed out of the car, heading straight towards the growing fields. She was happy that her daughter had become as enamored with the place, especially the flowers, as she had been.
Once she had gotten past the leaky door she opened a small box, displaying it's contents on the floor for all eyes to come across. Like her own mother did for her, she had just started Mabel's own collection of rainboots.