Together Again By Isabelle Caplin Grade 7 As I leaned over the bridge, my long chestnut brown hair flowing over the edge, I watched the current drift beneath me along with the lily flowers bobbing in the drifting tide. My hands gripped the railing, feeling that the wood had been there for a very long time. It was painted a light green color that has long since started to fade. I used my arms to push off the railing and sit down on the splinter covered ground of the bridge, memories starting to flood my head. I remember, as a little girl, barely being able to see over the railing. My mom would lift me up to see the glistening, crystal clear pond beneath me. My parents held my hands while showing me the lilies below that gave me my name, Liliana, and my nickname, Lily. I remember sitting on my momâ€™s lap, she holding me tightly as I cried, because my friend Eloise Reirsif was leaving to move to a city far away. I remember rushing across the bridge to my weeping willow after finding out that my mom had fallen ill with influenza, a disease that people rarely recovered from, especially in the middle of the woods without a skilled doctor around for miles.
Briana Torres Zoe Richardson
Literary Art Magazine Pierson Middle School Sag Harbor, New York May 13, 2019