Young Sarah trudged down the street, her little shoulders hunched, and tears welled up in her eyes. The weight of disappointment tugged at her heart as she replayed her father’s words in her mind.

“They sold the land and the strawberry fields, behind the house.” He had told her mother that morning before school. She whispered to herself, her voice heavy with sadness. “I wonder what they’ll do?”

Her thoughts wandered to the possibilities. Maybe they would build a charming little house in the woods, she pondered optimistically, a glimmer of hope flickering in her eyes. Perhaps they would be kind enough to let them pick the strawberries, the abundant fruits that brought so much joy every year.

There were always so many every year, more than enough to share, Sarah thought, her mind filled with hope. Sarah decided to go straight home and after dropping her school things off she walked the mile down the dirt road that led to the strawberry fields. By the time she got back home, it was almost time for supper.

She was to upset to eat and picked away at her food. Her mother grew impatient.

“What are you so mopey about?” She finally asked. Sarah began to cry. “All the strawberries are gone. I went to the strawberry fields and it’s just big machines and they plowed everything up.”

Sarah’s Mother scowled. “You’re not to go there anymore.” She scolded. “But what about the roses and the stream, and swimming?” Sarah asked.

“You can’t go up that road anymore to pick roses either because it’s been sold, and we’ll have to find another path to the stream.” Now stop crying and eat your supper. Her mother said.

Sarah couldn’t eat she just couldn’t. She sat there for ten more minutes and then asked to be excused. “Fine,” her mother said. “but this is going into the refrigerator and your eating it for breakfast. We can’t be wasting food. Sarah nodded and asked if she could go back outside to play. “Be home before dark.” her mother reminded.

With renewed determination, she decided to pay a visit to her neighbor, David, seeking solace in his company. He was always there to listen, offering a comforting presence amidst the chaos of the world. Maybe he would have some words of wisdom to ease her troubled heart.

As she approached David’s house, Sarah’s steps grew faster, her anticipation building. She knocked gently on his door, and it swung open to reveal the familiar face of her neighbor.

“Hey there, Sarah,” David greeted her with a warm smile. “What brings you here today?”

Sarah’s voice trembled as she poured out her sorrows, her words mingling with sobs. “They plowed the fields, David. The strawberries are gone, all gone. Daddy said they sold the land and plowed up the fields to build houses. “

Sarah’s voice trembled with disappointment. “I went to see today, but when I got there, the field had turned into mud. They plowed it up to build houses. What a waste, they’re all gone!”

David’s brow furrowed with concern as he listened attentively. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. It’s sad to see something beautiful like that disappear. We’ll have to find another way to enjoy strawberries now.”

Sarah shrugged her shoulders, her eyes glistening with tears. “Mumma said not to go up that road anymore to pick roses because it’s been sold. And we’ll have to find another path to the stream.”

David placed a comforting hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “I understand your sadness. But remember, things change, and sometimes we must adapt.”

Sarah wiped away her tears, her eyes searching for answers. “But where will we get our berries now? How can we replace what we’ve lost?”

David’s voice softened, his wisdom shining through his words. “Life has a way of presenting new opportunities, my dear. Perhaps there are other places, other fields waiting to be discovered. And even if we can’t find strawberries, we can still find joy in different ways.”

Sarah nodded, the weight on her heart gradually lifting. “You’re right, I wrote a poem about the strawberries so I have that to remember them by.”

With newfound resilience, Sarah bid her neighbor goodbye and made her way home, her steps a little lighter. She listened to her mother’s caution about the road no longer leading to the roses, understanding the inevitability of change.

“And if the summer’s heat reaches 80 degrees,” her mother’s words lingered, “we’ll have to find another path to the stream.”

When Sarah got home she picked up her journal and began to write.

fields once lush and green,
what changes lie unseen?
Strawberries plenty, red and bright,
a source of summer delight.
see what fate has brought,
my heart heavy with thought.

tears stream down my sad face,
The field now mud, a barren space.
They plowed it up, they didn’t care,
not a single strawberry was spared

lost treasures from the earth
the field is now void of worth.
No more roses to admire,
no summer fun till we tire.

Fields to mud, roads change their course,
summer fun can’t be forced.
memories and dreams will remain,
yesterday spent were not in vain.