Daffodils – Monologue (Rain)

A monologue from the play by Daniel Guyton

RAIN (mid-twenties)

Rain’s fiancé Jeremy has told her a horrible story about his childhood, which involved the ancient stone marker they are standing in front of.

Rain tries to comfort him as best as she can.

 If I could blast that stone into a million pieces, I would. If I could reverse the mortar and the flow of time, I would return that stone to dust.

And water. From whence it came. For you to have to look at something so unmoving, so . . . cold . . . But if I did that, Jeremy,

if . . . I destroyed that stone . . . What if I lost you in the process? What if I never met you? What if…? When my mother died I . . .

She was holding me just like this. Her arms across my chest. The tornado flattened everything. Our house, our…

neighbors . . . She held me many hours before I realized she was gone. I couldn’t talk because . . . she was holding me so tightly.

I couldn’t move because . . . she was holding me so tightly. For sixteen hours, I couldn’t move. I . . . was pinned in this position. 

From the time the twister hit until . . . I thought that she was mad at me. I thought that she was . . . She wouldn’t let me go.

It took twenty men to get us out of there. Twenty men to lift a house from off of my mother’s back. The refrigerator …

Stove . . . Even after she was gone, she . . . protected me. She shielded me. She kept my body warm. Your mother loved you, Jeremy.

She never left you. She couldn’t stop the storm from coming, but . . . she never left your side. The daffodils were protecting you, shielding you.

Keeping your body warm. I’ll never let you go, Jeremy. I’ll never let you go.

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