What Was

It was almost dusk above the remains of New York City. The eroded concrete from the once towering skyscrapers began to hold a faint orange hue as shadows along the ground stretched like tendrils reaching for nourishment. A mild wind coasted between the great walls of the war-torn structures, carrying with it chips of stone and dust from the old world—the sound of its friction against the concrete sang a sad song of “what was is no more.”

“It may not look like it, but this was once a home to many people. It will be our home for tonight,” the father said to his daughter who was gazing up at the large, solid temple of bricks and metals. The windows had become a contradiction of their former selves, stained black with the legacy of a fierce flame caused by the bombs, banishing the sunlight from their insides. The damaged fire escape hung like a giant wind chime from the side of the building, pieces of hanging rusted hollow metal rang as the wind pushed them against each other.

“This is a house?” asked the daughter.

“It was an apartment building. You could say it was once full of tiny little houses,” the father replied after turning a key and opening the door to the complex. He led the girl up to the very top floor, trusting the old stairs and floorboards as if they were his own kin. With another key, he opened another door to a room—a tiny house—decorated with floral tapestries and clay pots filled with rotten soil. Above, a shattered skylight welcomed the sun’s last light inside before it left to slumber beyond the horizon.

“Why are there pots of dirt everywhere?” the child asked.

“They were once the home to plants called flowers, one of the many things that once made the world beautiful.”

“What happened to them?”

“They died, as all living things do in time,” the father replied as he walked over to the remains of an old sunflower, once favored by someone very dear to him. He plucked out a seed and placed it gently into his daughter’s hands. “But sometimes, when things die, they leave something behind. Something precious like this seed—a new beginning.”

“Will it bring the flowers back to life?” The child asked with glossy eyes.

“No, sweetheart, but with enough love and care, this seed will grow into a new flower, just as beautiful as the one it came from. Eventually, that flower will make more seeds like this one that will become more flowers and make the world beautiful again.”

The girl stared at the seed curiously. “Will this be pretty when it grows into a flower?”

“Wait here.” The father walked into a room and came out holding a golden necklace. Attached to it was a heart-shaped locket with detailed etches that were filled in with old dust and dirt. Kneeling next to his daughter, he opened it, taking a moment to cherish what was inside before revealing it to the curious eyes of the little girl. “Does she look familiar to you?” he asked as he showed her the miniature photo of himself holding a woman with child in his arms. The daughter shook her head. He then pointed the small mirror on the other side of the locket at her face. “How about now?” he asked. His smile grew wide and his eyes watered as he watched his daughter’s face light up with gleam when she realized it was her mother. “You see,” he said, “a new beginning.”