The scarecrow and the crow
Prologue – Kakashi
Eyes open to a world of sunlight blazing through the midday sky, rays parting the clouds and kissing the earth, making the dewdrops on the grass glisten, making the river shimmer and the earth warm.
Kakashi’s first memory was of a flower blossom - a single petal floating in the air, guided by gentle winds coming from all directions. It was blithe in its flight, capturing the full attention of the silver haired three-year old. Fascination turned into sadness as the petal slowly descended, seemingly picking its grave in the earth. When the flower petal landed on a polished rock, it was when Kakashi understood.
She was gone.
His mother, like the dancing petal, had picked her grave on the earth. He thinks she too was just as beautiful when she flew. She must have had a pretty face, with kind eyes and a sweet smile that would brighten the darkest of worlds. She must have had sang with a gentle voice, whose melody would soften the hardest of hearts. She must have been warm, with hugs so tender and loving it would turn winter into spring.
Kakashi could not remember her anymore; her face, her voice, her warmth. The memory was gone from him now. He was too young to remember, and young enough to forget, everything about her. Yet Kakashi was certain that she was as beautiful in life as the flower blossom was beautiful in its death.
Kakashi’s first memory was of the transcendence of life...
“What is it Kakashi?” Sakumo pulled the small boy to his side, surprised at the sudden outburst of tears. Before this, his son has not shown any indication that he was able to comprehend his mother’s sudden passing. However, Sakumo knew the loss was so great that even such a young child would feel terrible, terrible sorrow; a grief so grave that this young child would cry himself to sleep that night, dreaming of emptiness, searching in the dark, longing for warmth that was no longer there.
…and the pain of death.
Prologue – Kakashi
Eyes open to a world of sunlight blazing through the midday sky, rays parting the clouds and kissing the earth, making the dewdrops on the grass glisten, making the river shimmer and the earth warm.
Kakashi’s first memory was of a flower blossom - a single petal floating in the air, guided by gentle winds coming from all directions. It was blithe in its flight, capturing the full attention of the silver haired three-year old. Fascination turned into sadness as the petal slowly descended, seemingly picking its grave in the earth. When the flower petal landed on a polished rock, it was when Kakashi understood.
She was gone.
His mother, like the dancing petal, had picked her grave on the earth. He thinks she too was just as beautiful when she flew. She must have had a pretty face, with kind eyes and a sweet smile that would brighten the darkest of worlds. She must have had sang with a gentle voice, whose melody would soften the hardest of hearts. She must have been warm, with hugs so tender and loving it would turn winter into spring.
Kakashi could not remember her anymore; her face, her voice, her warmth. The memory was gone from him now. He was too young to remember, and young enough to forget, everything about her. Yet Kakashi was certain that she was as beautiful in life as the flower blossom was beautiful in its death.
Kakashi’s first memory was of the transcendence of life...
“What is it Kakashi?” Sakumo pulled the small boy to his side, surprised at the sudden outburst of tears. Before this, his son has not shown any indication that he was able to comprehend his mother’s sudden passing. However, Sakumo knew the loss was so great that even such a young child would feel terrible, terrible sorrow; a grief so grave that this young child would cry himself to sleep that night, dreaming of emptiness, searching in the dark, longing for warmth that was no longer there.
…and the pain of death.
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