Simple Writes discussion

Amarantha loved nature. She wasn't allowed to wander too far from the isolated cabin, but the area she was allowed to roam she knew as well as she knew her own bedroom. She knew every plant that grew around the cabin, and knew how to tend for them correctly. Horticulture was one of the many things her mother had taught her, and one of the few that seemed to stick.

The girl wasn't one for math, or history, or reading. Her heart laid with the plants growing in the garden she and another had surrounded the cabin with. Mother said it was a consequence of naming her after one of those plants, the amaranth flower. They grew nearly every kind of plant, from vegetables to beautiful blossoms. They never wanted for greens at their table.

Amarantha would watch when her mother left to the town at the bottom of the valley to buy other supplies: books, meats, clothing. Amarantha was never allowed to go with her.

She didn't know why Mother wouldn't let her go with her. She'd asked once, when she was eight or so, but Mother had simply said that Amarantha didn't need to go. That Amarantha should be excited that Mother was leaving her home alone for so long. Because that means that Mother trusted Amarantha enough to leave her alone. She just had to be a good girl — and Mother knew she would be.

When Amarantha was older, Mother said she had to remain at home because she didn't want Amarantha to get hurt. That she hadn't said so when Amarantha was younger because she was afraid the girl wouldn't understand. And Amarantha accepted that.

She still wished to go, of course, and once or twice Mother would let her, but not often enough for Amarantha. But she could accept why Mother kept her home. After all, it was a very good reason.

Amarantha never thought to ask about her father. She didn't need a father. Mother was more than enough for her — with the way that Mother kept an eagle eye on her, watching Amarantha's every move. But she was just protecting her. That's all Mother wanted: to protect Amarantha.

Though, maybe it was a lie to say Amarantha never thought of him. He was her father, after all, whoever he was, and that meant something, didn't it? She couldn't help but wonder about him; where he was, why he wasn't with Amarantha and Mother. She wasn't one of those girls who made up a fantasy in her head about him — though she did consider it once or twice — but she wondered.

That was really all she had time for; wondering. Wondering and tending to her garden.