The sun shone high above my head, with the stench of mule manure and rotting bodies searing through the air. Beads of sweat collected on my forehead as the heat pounded down on me. Hundreds of impatient wagons groaned behind me, but I ignored them. I ignored it all, shutting my eyes as tightly as possible.
All I could feel was the steady beating of my heart and the slight tug of the occasional summer breeze. All I could see were my sister’s big, baby blue eyes. All i could think of was how those beautiful eyes would never open again, never again brim with curiosity as they always had.
“Come on, Philip!” My father had bellowed earlier this morning, eager to move on. “We don’t have time to waste!”
It was true. We really didn’t have time to waste. How could something so cruel be so precious?
Time, my only enemy.
We were all fighting against time, really, trying to reach the west before winter, trying to keep our food from spoiling, trying to keep diseases at bay.
And now, time forced my sister’s corpse to be buried in a shallow grave, on the side of this petty trail, with nothing so much as a headstone.
She was only two years old; her time on Earth had been mercilessly cut short. Her weak smile had still been genuine when she took her last breath, her eyes still a pure, vibrant blue.
Why, time barely allowed for us to react to the sickness that had seemingly washed over her overnight.
Yes, time was incredibly wicked. I felt no guilt in wasting it, sitting next to my beloved sister’s corpse.
I gingerly placed a few dandelions at her deathbed, and sat patiently next to where she lay under a thin layer of soil, motionless.
The fluffy yellow petals were as bright as her soul had been, their scent as sweet as her laugh.
She deserves so much more than a couple of dandelions.
She deserved a bright future, a fulfilled life, a promising future, one better than the lives we had lived as small town farmers toiling with poor soil and languishing on little income.
Out in the west, there was so much open land to be bought, where cattle and livestock were to be raised and money was to be earned. With my family against slavery, we had only my father and I, a young man of nearly fifteen years, to work in the fields. My mother would busy herself caring for my younger sister, and preparing herself for her new child.
The newly claimed American land would promise a prosperous future, and would have ensured my entire family a better life. It would have been as beautiful as the mountain men had claimed.
It was such a shame my younger sister would never get to see it all.
Somehow, I rose from the ground, and made my way back to my wagon. The wagons behind mine were packed with impatient relatives and family friends, all itching to get back on track.
“Foolish boy,” I had heard someone mumble as I neared closer. “You didn’t see our Lilly take up that much of our time mourning over her father, did you, James?”
I ignored the comments, just as I had with almost everything else.
“You done?” my father had asked briefly before continuing. “You know we can’t set up camp here… We need to keep moving, we don’t have much-”
“Time. I know, I know.” I had spat bitterly.
This journey holds so much heartache, so much pain, yet I am determined to keep moving forward.
I am determined to see what my sister’s young, beautiful blue eyes would never be able to see.