I didn't mean to climb the tree, Mommy. But I wanted to touch the sky so badly. You told me the sky was the limit. You told me so.
"The sky's the limit for you, angel." Remember, Mommy?
I know you told me not to, but how else was I supposed to get close to the clouds?
I climbed it, so high the flowers below were nothing more than dots. Who knew anything could be so small?
But I lost my grip. It was an accident, I promise.
Won't you forgive me for that, Mommy?
I saw her slip, an expression of pure surprise etched onto her innocent face. She stepped backwards, only to encounter the nothingness of air.
I saw you in the distance. Do you know how I could tell? You were holding the stuffed bunny you said you'd get for me. I was so glad, I reached my arms out to wave to it.
But I forgot that I was holding onto the tree.
That was okay though. You were going to rescue me, weren't you? I knew you would. I reached out for you.
Frozen, petrified with terror only a mother about to lose a child could feel, I stared.
I stared as she struggled to regain her footing.
I stared as she looked me in the eye, fear in her gaze.
And then you stopped. Mommy, why did you stop? I was falling, Mommy, and you never came.
You never came.
And she fell.
It was that sight, seeing her pinwheel out of control that sent me running. Blindly I ran, tears clouding my vision. I could barely see, but I didn't care. Forget the tears. She was falling.
I ran as she fell. And gravity took over, bringing her down to the unforgiving concrete below.
I could only collapse next to her broken body, gripping her hand as her eyes fluttered closed.
I saw red, Mommy. Bright red. Aren't you glad I remembered my colors? My head hurt so badly, but I remembered red. Red and black. Why was it so black?
I was so scared. I felt like I was being broken into pieces. I could barely think, Mommy.
The tears slipped down my face, soundlessly.
Then it all went away. All I saw after that was white. Everything was white. And I no longer hurt. I didn't even have a Band-Aid on me. Is that possible, Mommy?
Later, I stood in numb disbelief, staring at the words on the headstone.
They didn't do her justice.
I couldn't bear to have her leave me. Not yet.
How was it that I, at age 29, had outlived my baby girl?
I was taken away by someone in white. She was glowing, from head to toe, like the stars on my ceiling. She was so pretty, but not as pretty as you are. Do you think I'll ever be as pretty as you?
My beautiful girl.
I couldn't find you. I asked her where you were.
She smiled, a tear on her cheek. "She's not here yet, Mallory. It's not her time."
Mommy, what did she mean? You said you would always be there for me.
Why weren't you there?
I laid a single daisy on her grave. She had always loved them, loved their white petals. A single tear fell onto the stone.
Where are you, Mallory?
It's fine though, Mommy, I can see you from here. Why are you crying? I don't hurt anymore.
Even if you can't be here, I'll always watch over you.
Always, Mommy. I promise.
A/N: "Mallory" means unlucky, and the daisy means innocence. This may not be entirely correct, but that's what I found on Google. Review?