Finding Olive

So many many problems...

The warm, hazy sun beams peeked through the trees and the babbling brook bubbled as it chatted to the rocks below as I waded to the other side. The muddy water began to squelch and squel between toes when I reached the bank. As I sat down on the soft, springy grass, I instantly thought of Olive, my best friend. I leaned back and dipped the tips of my toes into the brook again. We used to lay like this for hours and watch the clouds pass by. Where are you Olive? I thought despairingly.

"You're supposed to be here with me!" I whispered to no one in particular.

Just hoping that maybe, just maybe, the wind and the trees would carry my distress to her and she'd come home. Olive had gone to Lisa Jones's party (One which I had not been invited to), and never came back from it. She could've been kidnapped, murdered, or sold. The thought that terrifies me the most is that maybe she just ran away. I hate thinking of the awful things that could be happening or have happened to her.

I felt the tears well up behind my eyes and I tried to hold them back, but one still escaped. I quickly wiped it away and stood up. I let the sun dry my feet and then slipped my boots back on. I slowly made my way through the soft emerald trees. Thinking. A simple activity, yet one that has large outcomes. I doubt thinking about my parents' divorce will help me much though. I can't even believe the fact that they would break up so close to my sister's move to college. Is this really how they want to be remembered by her? I think back on those times that they yelled and screamed. I remembered the warmth of my tears being the only bittersweet thing to comfort me.

But then, my sister would whisk me away to her room and we'd enjoy the eerie beauty of the forest as the mist gently wrapped itself around the trees in the pale dusk through her window.

What will we do when they do finally break apart? The thought quickly vanishes with only a lingering feeling of loss as I came upon the tall pine in the center of the forest. The tree in which Olive and I would make Olive Syrup. As I climbed the limber yet sturdy branches, it brought back so many harsh yet enjoyable memories. Of all the fights we'd had or of all the sunsets Olive and I had shared. But mostly, the Olive Syrup.