Three Honey Biscuits and Rock

I gently pry open the lid of the chicken coop, peering inside to see about 30 pairs of eyes staring back at me. A few of the chickens blink in unison, their heads tilting ever so slightly as if processing the sudden intrusion. Then, one gives a slow, deliberate cluck, setting off a quiet chain of feather ruffling.

I let out a sigh as I dig my hands through the box of hay beneath their nests that caught any eggs that they might’ve laid.

Empty again, I thought, reaching the end of the box and finding nothing, just as expected.

Since their egg-laying cycles were dependent on exposure to light, the hens naturally produced less during the winter. Still, Mr. Akizuki said it was worth checking and had tasked me with collecting them during the morning while he fiddled with his farming machines to figure out a way to make them work without gas.

Leaving the chicken coop with an empty bucket on hand, I make my way to do my next assigned task of the day which was to break the ice in the water troughs that formed overnight. I had gotten used to my daily farm work, but had still secretly disliked it, however, having lost my passion for everything else, I had no choice but to do it.

“If you want the reason why I haven’t given up yet, it’s because I told myself I won’t”, the words that Mr. Akizuki said that day echoed in my mind.

I suppose we’re in the same boat Mr. Akizuki, I thought, I’ve also told myself I wouldn’t give up, but I haven’t found a real reason why.

In the end I had dedicated myself to working on the farm, mainly because I came to realize that Mr. Akizuki was right; doing farm work did help keep my mind off the things I didn’t want to think about. With my bag of photos, my gun, and my photo wall all back at my house about a mile away, anything that risked giving me intense flashbacks was safely out of my reach.

As I make my way back to the shed to grab my tools, I spot a familiar figure in the distance; an older man who looked to be in his mid forties, wearing a brown winter coat and a beret walks away from the farmhouse through the dirt path that led to it. He was Mr. Takayama—one of the few distributors that still stopped by to help get the food transported, and was a longtime friend of the Akizukis.

Upon noticing me from afar, he waves over to me and calls out. “Lily! Do you know where Mr. Akizuki is by any chance? I came by to deliver something as well as pick up the supplies for the week but I can’t seem to find him nor Mrs. Akizuki.”

I shake my head. I only had a general idea of their morning tasks, but less than what Mr. Takayama would know, so if he couldn’t find them, then I didn’t have any idea of where they might be either.

“Dang it!” he says, “well if you see them, just let them know that I’ll come by later on my return trip to pick up the supplies!”

He then makes his way back to his horse drawn carriage and continues on his usual route. Watching as he rides off, I decide to make a small detour in my tasks and choose to focus on finding Dahlia’s parents first.

I quietly walk the short distance to the farmhouse, occasionally looking at my surroundings to see if I could spot them beforehand, but don’t.

“Mr. and Mrs. Akizuki!” I call out as I enter through the door, “Mr. Takayama came by to pick up the supplies and says he’ll be back later!”

However, as the seconds pass by without anyone answering, I decide to check on the kitchen, but instead of finding anyone in there, I instead see a medium-sized package placed on the table.

That must be the package that Mr. Takayama delivered, I thought, curiously walking over to it to inspect the giant red words written at the top of the box.

To:… Dahlia…?!

I stand there frozen, shocked upon seeing the name of my old comrade that had passed away about a year ago.

Why would there be a package addressed to her and not her parents? I wondered, letting my curiosity get the better of me as I slowly moved to pry open the box. I knew it was an invasion of the family’s privacy, but I felt that as her comrade, I deserved the right to know too.

Upon opening the box, I take note of each item placed inside; a slice of peach cobbler placed in a small white container, a small bag of oatmeal cookies, and three pieces of honey biscuits wrapped in a napkin.

Food…? I wondered, but why is there—

“Ugh, I really wish I could have some honey biscuits right now,” I suddenly hear Dahlia’s voice echoing in my mind as I begin to realize the significance of the food.

These are some of Dahlia’s favorites, I recall, as I noticed another item in the box; a simple gray rock that also didn’t seem to hold any meaning until another small memory flashed in my mind.

“What? You’ve never skipped a rock across a lake before? Well one of the first things you need to make sure you do is to pick the right kind of rock. The smooth and flat ones with rounded edges are typically the best…”

Upon looking at the rock again I realized that it did in fact have the proper qualities of a good skipping rock. Everything in the box seemed to hold some sort of significance to Dahlia, but I couldn’t figure out why the box was sent.

“Lily? Lily dear, did you forget to break the ice in the water troughs again?” I suddenly hear the voice of Dahlia’s mother call out, “sigh, that girl… sometimes she reminds me of my dau—”

She stops mid sentence as she notices me standing silently in the kitchen.

“Oh, hey Lily! You forgot to unfreeze the water again. I’ve already broken the ice, but please try to remember—next… time…”

Her voice trails off as she gets close enough to notice the package opened in front of me.

“...who is this package from?” I quietly ask, my eyes still lingering on the items inside.

She makes a strange face as if contemplating whether or not to tell me, but finally relents. “It’s… from the Carolds’ Farm…” she says, “they send a package like this every few weeks to apologize for the incident that happened on their farm.”

Incident on the farm? I wonder, but suddenly, it all comes back to me.

The Carolds Farm. The closest farm to the Akizuki’s, just a couple miles east along the mountain range. It was the farm that Dahlia had grown up on and had told us many stories of time and time again.

It was also the farm where she died.

“But… it’s not their fault…” I murmured as Mrs. Akizuki’s face saddens further.

“We know… we’ve tried to reject their packages a few times already, but they kept insisting anyway,” she explains, “we figured it was probably just a method for them to cope with their grief, and just decided to let them send it. After all, as an only child, she spent a lot of her free time with their children on their farm, so much so that she was like their second daughter.”

I clenched my hands in slight frustration. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how Dahlia would’ve wanted them to act. It was just too pitiful—so pitiful that I couldn’t just stand there and watch it happen.

“...I’m going,” I finally decided, and for a moment I felt some part of my old self returning to me, “I’ll be back before dinner.”

“Lily? Lily wait—”

But I was already out the door before she could finish.