You Are My Peace, Dear Niece by Alisa Chazova

— Why do I have to wait for so long to see you again for the first time?

— I said it, smiling after catching scents of cherry pie from the kitchen. Still baking... why does it take them so long? I stared at the blossoming tree through the window, thinking if it was a peach, an apple, or… 

— Oh god. How did they even manage to get cherries at this time of the year?  

 This place never failed to surprise me, just like you did back in the future. Drowning in those memories, I couldn’t stay still, so I threw myself down the hallways, running as fast as possible. Maybe this tree can bring me where you are now. My heart started beating faster; I felt parts of muscles that I usually don’t pay attention to; air cooled my skin, as well as sweat that poured down my forehead, spine, and ankles. I smiled hard; it got even worse when those doctors started yelling at me:  

— Miss Lidia, what in the world are you doing?  

— Miss Lidia, get back to your room immediately! 

I just couldn’t bring myself together—and started laughing like a crazy lady. It echoed through long white walls. 

 When I finally stepped out of that building, I felt warm, watery grass under my feet. Guess I missed the rain during treatments this night. The sun was harsh with me, as if offended by my long absence, and the wind—well, just like that day you were born: out of his mind. I promised your father that I won't fall asleep before you’re here, but I failed. In my defense, he slept as well, just not as deeply as I. Is it your presence that made me feel so safe, love? 

 Even with hair all over my sight, I managed to approach the tree. Pink flowers got stuck in my clothes. Cherry it is. This time it smelled different, and I couldn't smile any longer. 

— Why are you crying? — You suddenly asked, appearing right in front of me.  

— Waiting for you is getting too painful. — I sat on the ground without caring about my white robe. You also landed next to me.  

— Sheesh, get a life.  

— Aren’t you here to make me feel better?  

— Exactly—you smirked. 

With our spins on the tree, we stared at the facility. Spring with her gifts did not make it look better—not even yellow tulips helped. Big red letters on grey stone hypnotized people to see the world as cruel, not worth trying; it said “Psychiatric Hospital №2.” 

— Isn’t it symbolic that I got here after losing you, and will get free after you get born again? 

— No, it’s not. It’s just sad.  

— And you call me a pessimist. — I finally stopped sobbing and looked at your doe brown eyes.  

— You just proved my point.  

I laughed and put my head on your knees. You didn’t even flinch and started petting my head gently. I fell into a deep, long-lasting sleep – just like every other time you’re around.