Branches Book

BRANCHES

Polina Chepenko

THE CREEPING AMELIA

Strong winds flew across the field, shifting the note pages in front of me. I have kept this diary for more than eight years. From a young age, I enjoyed writing about my experiences, but recently, my entries have communicated a more somber tone. When Marie was taken, Amelia placed herself inside the wheat field to reflect on the bygone days. However, we are only figuratively carried away, concerned with the food shortage that arose in Western Missouri. According to Amelia, her sister Marie does not address the relocation from Georgia to the Northwest correctly. It isn’t surprising. Amelia doesn’t seem to like anything. Amelia wants to go away . Once I closed my diary, I walked down the hill and through the fields, brushing against the desperate stalks of wheat. The drought had been pervasive. All the memories of golden leaves, sparkling raindrops, and flourishing gardens were now useless. Even our house looked malnourished. As I turned towards its front porch, I saw Marie emerging from the doorstep. “It’s time to eat,” she yelled. I ran through the dying plants and into our dining room, hoping that she would at last discuss why we moved away from our parents, why there is a drought, and why our food is terrible. But all I heard from her was silence. She carried my plate of soup to the table, put it down, and looked at me. I wanted to yell, “Tell me, what happened?” but all I could do was stare back. “Eat the soup,” she whispered. I slowly lifted my spoon, but suddenly, I felt a strong emotion take over. “No Marie, take it away, I do not want your food!” I yelled. I saw her turn around and walk away. “Don’t you understand? I am confused,” I heard myself saying. And then her usual response. “We aren’t going to discuss this.” She didn’t even ask me why I felt confused. On that day, I still lacked Marie’s attention to my questions, but I did make a very important decision. Since my sister had once again shown no interest in our parents, I was going to go back to Charlotte myself. All I had to do was collect food. Under the bridge, my neighbors had grown all types of vegetables, from carrots to corn to winter squash. That is where I wanted to go first. Then, I would reunite with my parents, they would tell me everything, and we would live with plenty of food and water. Amelia, I thought, needs to travel. Taking out my diary once again, I imagined my

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