I looked across the flowerbeds to the lush green hills that decked mother's territory. A home we called paradise. 

At first, I needed to remember her as she was, because I was leaving for my aunt's. But later, I understood that it would become my freshest memory of her. 

Just like Jimmy, my puppy, I woke up on August 24 on the wrong side of bed. He never stopped barking, and I didn't stop whining until I was led into the boat with some other kids of my age.

Unlike those kids, I couldn't wave goodbye to my family and Jimmy shared that feeling with me. 

Our boat drifted, and the masses on the riverbank faded gradually into anthills and mini me.

But I could see mother smiling from the distance, her voice, the distant chirping of birds at dawn.

" It's okay, Jimmy. We will see her soon." I assured and hugged him to my chest. An act aimed at calming my throbbing heart.

We arrived my aunt's place before nightfall but  the town looked deserted compared to the last time I visited.

My aunt was on the riverbank and the moment I stepped down from the boat, she grabbed my hand and ushered the kids to some carriages on standby.

" Aunt Herculaneum, what's happening? Why's everyone gone?

And where are we going?" I panicked when she led me into one of the carriages. By then, Jimmy's gaze was crestfallen like calamity had hit our fort.

“ Let's get out of here, then we will talk.”

" No, I need to know where you're taking me!" I screamed, ready to alight any moment.

But her voice came in terrified gasp, and she yelled at the coachman to move.

I followed her gaze and met a whirlwind sweeping from the direction we had come like a tsunami. 

" That...my mother," I stuttered, barely audible but my aunt heard me, and she understood me.

I stared intently at her for  an explanation. I couldn't shake off the dread nipping at my heart, and I didn't want her to confirm it either.

She looked away from me into the distance as the horses galloped, fuelled to outrun the death that chased us all.

Something about her eyes, the dark rings and heavy bags told the forbidden tale which mother tried to tell me earlier but I didn't listen.

It was goodbye. It was the last of us together.

It was August 24, 79 AD. A year that became imprinted in my mind for eternity, because it was on that day that mother, my paradise, my Pompeii, became the city that buried her children in volcanic ash.

In honour of those who fell before Mount Vesuvius.