I am old

I am old now with my story coming to an end. I remember a time when flowers bloomed, and the days unfolded with birds and blue skies, but those days are gone now it is too hot to go outside. The birds have long burned, and the blue skies are hot with fire. The ones that survived have been through the height of trauma but the ones that remember are the ones doomed. Times are different people survive. I received my locket today. My fate is but days away.

The rationing is kept for the youth to survive, and I wonder what their hope is what is their idea of a better tomorrow. We live in makeshift camps covered in some material that lessens our exposure. We are all dying but the children are unjustifiably hopeful and that too is our fault. We put them away before they saw the suffering. We hid them from the truth and trusted them never to ask questions. And thankfully they have not. This world we created for them has been running out of supplies since the last voyage.

I have been the tender of the gardens and children for over fifty years but now it belongs to others to manage. Long enough to see how grossly we wasted the planet we now inhabit. But for how much longer. We thought building a private world for some would aid in survival, but nature had another version that will not include us. We are burning and resources are far from adequate, after I pass there will be one less mouth to feed one less old woman to care for, I am tired, worn.

I taught my children to learn the old ways to grow food and the new ways we have evolved but the evolution has not been enough. Not every camp has sufficient developing machines, and some would love to destroy the camps just to watch children burn. The world has been cruel and continues to ravage their very souls. I am glad to be leaving.

I am old I can grow no more; my use has come to an end. The golden locket shaped in the form of a heart has the powder inside, and one drink down and I sleep forevermore. I am allowed twenty hours before I am required to eternal sleep. Some of the children have come with soft memories and sorrowful good-byes. Some ask if I am scared and will I miss my life here. They want to make certain I know I have mattered and will be missed. They are questioning their survival with all the old ones dying and I am unsure how to give them confidence in the future. I feel more heartbroken for them to be here on this dying planet with no fresh breeze to blow across their face. No smell of freshly cut grass, no traffic jam, no music. The world has changed and not for the better. We did this, I remind myself. We burnt the planet and left- behind children with no real hope.

I am a skeptic one youth tells me, maybe so. I am old. I open the locket and the powder looks just as I remember. The day we formed this powder program it was considered self-sacrifice and promised a glorious finish. The locket became a symbol of courage. I think I am going to be bitter if this is the real end. I mix my drink there is no one here now but I and my heart shaped locket. After I am gone it will be engraved with my name and death date. The world will die soon behind me. I guess I am lucky. For the ones I leave behind I pray that gentleness of love finds each one of them. I lift a toast to hope and love and I close the locket and lay my body down for I am old.