I remember the first time I went to the garden with my father. 1
I was eight years old; A spunky yet polite daughter of a widower, with eyes that sparkled like sapphires and silky jet black hair that spiraled down my back. My father, a tall and imposing looking man with the heart of a teddy bear, had just turned thirty two. He told me that I inherited my looks from my mother, who died giving birth to me on a cold October morning. Even though his eyes were a shade of hazelnut and his hair was dirty blonde, there was no doubt that I was his daughter. We shared a crooked smile and a distinguised dimple in our chins. 2
My father was born into a rich Jewish family in the Upper East section of New York City as David Jacob Ackerman. Enrolled into a prestigious private school, he thrived on his musical and artistic talent. He was fluent, so to speak, in playing both the piano and the violin. For hours at a time, he was retreat in seclusion and create sad and slow pieces on the spot. His eyes would close so lightly that he appeared to be in a peaceful trance. 3
He often spent other afternoons in his very own garden, painting the beauty of nature around him. He was a man of few words, but of intense emotion. There was a Cherry Blossom tree, which he would sit under and sketch the world as he saw it through his eyes. His elder sister, my late aunt, would frame his masterpieces while the rest of the family brushed him off.4
My mother, who died at the age of twenty three with my birth, was raised in a small neighborhood outside of Philadelphia. She was raised by her mother, who had fled from an abusive husband. By working two jobs, her mother was able to provide a comfortable apartment for them to share. It was my mother's dream to own her home with a yard and a special garden for her to tend. My mother's maiden name was Lillian Clark, and I was named Lily after her favorite flower. She spoke my name with a smile on her face as my eyes opened and hers closed for the final time.5
My father had made a friend in highschool who was the son of the conductor in the Philadelphia Orchestra. It wasn't long until he was offered a spot as a violinist. After a single show, he was promoted to first chair and given a solo in the piece they were playing. The story goes that my mother had been accepted into the University of Penn, and had been set up on a blind date by her girlfriends. The man was rumoured to be attractive, charming and wealthy. They were set to meet at the Orchestra and then to go to a fancy dinner at the Palms. My mother, even with her little black dress and a pearl necklace, had been stood up. Sulking, she watched the show alone, her tears flowing with rejection as she listened to the soft and sad melody my father played. She was so moved that she waited two hours for him to leave after the show, and as the story goes, they hit it off from there.6
They were married a year later in the traditional Jewish fashion. My father, being twenty-two and my mother twenty-one, bought a wonderful home in Chaddsford, outside of the city where he would play. It was a dream come true for my mother; She had her very own garden. For two years, they lived in perfect harmony.7
On the sunny and warm days, they would both sit out in the courtyard where my mother would water her flowers and my father would sit underneath a cherry blossom tree and play his music for mama. They had lunch in the garden with checkered colored blankets and picnic baskets. There was a bird feeder where all the small blue jays, robins and even hummingbirds would gather in the springtime. By the time she found out she was 3 months pregnant, it was the beginning of summer. They couldn't have been any happier.8
Sometimes I wish I had never been born, so that my parents could have continued on like this until the very end. I blame myself for my mother's death, although I didn't care in my youth. All I needed was my father, who took me away from that big house as a baby. He buried my mama in the garden, underneath the Cherry Blossom tree, before leaving. By my Eighth birthday, my father found a new woman to call his own. He told me we were going to go back to the old house, and he had something to show me. 9
It nearly broke my heart. I knew he hadn't meant it to happen, but the garden had died over time. Everything was brown and dead; all the plants had long shriveled up and the bird feeder had broken down by the snow, wind, and rain of the passing seasons. There was a small headstone at the foot of the Cherry Blossom tree, which had lost all it's leaves. It read, "Lillian, a loving wife, mother, and nurturer." 10
It wasn't long till my father and stepmother had a baby. They named my baby brother Ethan. It seemed that I spent more and more time out in the garden, trying to do what I could to bring it back to life. My father seemed to forget me now that he had a new family to take care of. He didn't spend any time in the garden anymore, and I never saw him pick up a paintbrush or pencil again. He never played his music in the house anymore, and he started to grow gray hairs. No, he wasn't my father at all.11
By the time I was fourteen, I managed to get flowers to grow and I had saved up enough of my allowance to buy another bird feeder. I sat under that same tree, and I'd talk to my mama..tell her how I'm sorry, and that I miss her. I told her about daddy, but that I still love him, even though he's different. I told her about the baby, who had just turned five and seemed to have gotten the musical talent. 12
I had no need for college or further education. My father gave me half of his wealth, including the estate, in his will and testament. My baby brother Ethan joined the military and was killed in a roadside bombing, my stepmother joined soon after. My father had picked out a family plot on the outside of our land to be buried at. I felt bad that my mama was all alone.13
My life was slow but peaceful. I was artistic, like my father had been. I dabbled in music but never played like my father. I gardened days in and days out. All the money I had, and nothing to do with it but use it for that garden. I wasn't lonely in the mansion; I knew that my mama was right there with me. 14
When I became too old to garden, I settled for sitting out there and observing the work over my seventy years of being alive. The leaves on the flowers were a rich green, and they dripped with the fresh water of the morning. The flowers themselves, well they were bright and lively. I mixed all kinds of flowers with all kinds of colors. The grass became a soft mat beneathe my body when I could no longer keep it trimmed. Birds often came to be with me. They would dunk their little heads into the water pool, nibble on some feed with their tiny beaks and look at me as if they understood me. The Cherry Blossom tree grew back it's beautiful flowers, and they would coat the ground in a pink blanket when Autumn came around. 15
I took away my mother's life. But, I worked all my life to pay my debt to her, and I gave her the gift she always wanted. She's laying beneath her favorite tree in a beautiful garden. I too, will join her soon. I have no use for a family plot when I was not a part of that family. I'll miss my father, but I know that I had him in my life and I need to join my mother now. That garden has become a part of me just like it was a part of her, and I'd created life when all I'd ever done was destroy.
Author notes
Lemme know what you think?
I hope this satisfies the contest. Her father gave her his wealth (Which was in his estate) and she used it for the garden 
Also, for picture prompt contest, I the "Back with Mommy" (Something like that) one.
A contest entry
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Comments
1 - 21 of 21
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Very well written, good luck in the contest.
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The description was written beautifully. That was amazing There were a few misspellings here and there though.
I thought having a character spending her life like this for so many years is somewhat unimaginable. "Gosh, she has no life-just dwelling on something like this without moving on." But perhaps that's what the message of the story is about. From a non-changing perspective of a character who can't forgive herself for an event that occurred and it happened to be the very thing that she couldn't do anything about at all.
However, in contrast to that, my side of perspective is:
"Humans have to move on, don't they? They wouldn't be able to last till that long then."
So I do personally think that the choice of making her as a seventy year old woman is somewhat far-fetched.. (I'm crossing my fingers and hoping that it sounds as light as possible to you)
I guess that's all I have to say.
Have a nice and pleasant day by the way.
beginning: 4, language: 5, plot: 4, ending: 3, dialog: 5, characters: 3.
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Great Job!
it is very sad.. but koool. -
Awesome story, sad but awesome.
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Well done!
This is a very beautiful story. I love how you make it seem like the father's whole life has changed after his wife's death by mentioning that he doesn't play music or do art anymore. It was a very emotional read and I was able to really identify with your character. Well done! -
This is really good and sad but you don't need quite so much details about the parents. I still loved it! Great job!
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good
gets a little slow at points, but meaningful and well written. keep up the good work.
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This is very nice. Well-written aside from the occasional typo (harmless mistakes).
My only problem with this is that it drags in a few parts. The character's voice is kind of bland, in that she doesn't get much opportunity to give her own input—she's just detailing her life and the lives of her family. I understand the premise of the story, don't get me wrong, but I believe that with a little more work you can give life to this piece
Thanks for entering!
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Wow, I am really impressed by this. It was very well written and filled with emotion and care. I see you spent much time on this, well done. Keep writing!
XxHayleyxX -
Wow. That was really impressive for complete monologue because usually I don't find pieces with out dialogue so enticing. Your description, I must say, is some of the best I've ever read and some of the things you say just..."wow" me.
Examples:
1. We shared a crooked smile and a distinguised dimple in our chins.
2. That garden has become a part of me just like it was a part of her, and I'd created life when all I'd ever done was destroy.
I also liked how you made me feel the emotions. I never thought the death of a mother during birth could impact that child so deeply. Great work and thanks for entering the contest! However; I do need the second part or you'll have to be disqualified. I'll give you at least two days to change it.
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That was really sweet, I could see a woman sitting on a porch thinking back on her life in the quiet.
You have a really nice way of saying things, it makes a sad event beautiful like in this line: "She spoke my name with a smile on her face as my eyes opened and hers closed for the final time."
The entire piece is full of emotion, happy and sad. I still can't figure out which one your last sentence was: "That garden has become a part of me just like it was a part of her, and I'd created life when all I'd ever done was destroy."
Quite a moving piece! Thanks for entering and the best of luck to you!
H.P. -
this is really good especially for a contest entry. i wish i could see your picture though
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Wow what a masterfully constructed story. It was beautiful, heart warming and sad, but still so engrossing. Magnificent job. I love this story and its sentiment.
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This was beautiful! At first I was wondering where you were going, because of the rich details about the parents... But when I got to the end I think you did wonderfully! You obviously have great imaginative skills, thinking up three complete lives for a story of 1200 words, I'm very impressed!
Your descriptions are well thought out and complete. You don't push it, but you don't leave out too much either.
I do disagree with the character's way of life, trying to revive the garden in remembrance of her mother, without doing much else.. seems like a waste of a life to me, and probably not what the mother had wished for her child!
Don't have much else to say, it's just a good write! Keep it up and good luck in the contest!
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It was pretty good.
I liked it...but i dont know if it went with the contest as well as i had hoped...i will still keep it in because it was really good.
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I liked this, it was well writen and good discription. I didn't see anything wrong with it. It was a bit long in the beginning but that made the story warm. If you get what i'm saying. Any way I hope to see more from you, and good luck with further stories.
Host -
Enthralling read
I agree the opening introduction was a bit long. Though it made sense why you took the time to discribe - it set up the relationship between the young daughter and her adoring Dad. The over all story was for me captivating and vivid yet very sad. I enjoyed it very much. I would have loved to read more from you.
All the Best,
Sincerely,
Cheryl
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I like this.
The way you introduced the characters was excellent; you managed to describe them without it seeming like a great chunk of description. The story on its own was quite lovely, especially how Lily worked so hard to revive the garden.
All in all, a rather bittersweet, yet lovely all the same, story.
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Wow this is really good. I really like how you introduced the characters. It was a sweet story.Good job and good luck in all your contests.
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I like it. Some parts were a bit overdone to me, especially the beginning. I hate it when characters describe themselves in glowing terms. However once I got to the "David Jacob Ackerman" part I was hooked in. I liked the plot a lot. There were a couple grammatical errors and some things could have been described better, but overall it was a good story. Finalist list.
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Hi Celeste,
I enjoyed your story but hope you don't mind if I point out a couple of things!
Line 2 I was eight years old; a spunky yet polite… (lower case follows a semi-colon or separate with full stop into two sentences.)
Line 3 ... New York city as... (captitalize City) also
... he would retreat in seclusion...
Line 5 ... a yard and a special garden for her to tend. (remove to)
Line 8 ... underneathe should be underneath
Line 10 ... lost all it(')s leaves. (remove apostrophe) ... its denotes ownership ... it's is a contraction of it is.
Line 11 ...step mother should be stepmother
The only thing I didn't like was the last sentence. I expected it to end on a happier note unless it was your intention not to. You had restored your mother's garden yet ... you sound deflated?
Hope this helps!
Happy New Year
beginning: 5, language: 4, plot: 4, ending: 3, characters: 5.
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