Generation 1.1 - Vanilla Cream

My name is Vanilla Cream Palette, and I dream of all things that grow.

My parents were farmers with a deep love of plants and the great outdoors, and that love passed into me, their only child. They died when I was still pretty young, but I still remember that much about them. My daddy teaching me how to plant the seed in the dirt just right, my mama singing to the sprouts, laughing and tellin’ me that love was the best medicine of all. I miss them dearly to this very day. My daddy’s rich laughter, the sweet sound of my mama’s lullabies  . . . .

After they died in that horrible car wreck I was given into an orphanage to be raised, as I had no other living relatives near enough to take me. Life there was hard for me. I’ve always been shy, and being around so many strange kids at once was a trial. The absolute hardest part for me though was being kept away from the thing I loved most; growing things. The years passed slowly for me, agonizingly slow. I got a part-time job at the grocery store as soon as I was old enough, saving up every simoleon with only one goal in mind. As soon as I was released from the orphanage’s care, I was gonna buy back my parents’ farm. Mango Peel, my only real friend, thought I was bonkers for wanting to live so far from the city, but to me, it was heaven on earth.

And then, the day finally arrived. I had done it. I was now a Young Adult, and I had regained my legacy. Well . . . what’s left of it.

Whoever lived in the house after us hadn’t taken very good care of it. The paint was peeling off the window frames and doors, the poor mailbox wasn’t much better. And the inside looked nothing like I’d remembered. Worst of all, mama and daddy’s garden was completely gone. But I didn’t let that get me down. This was a new beginning. With a lot of hard work, elbow grease and determination things would get better.

First thing’s first. I got started right away re-tilling the land next to the house. I planted my first seeds and as soon as my fingers sank into the dirt, I felt better.

After that was through, there wasn’t much to be done, sad to say. I tried to pass the time by reading the newspaper that the paper boy had kindly delivered earlier that morning. I’ve never been much of a reader though, so it didn’t hold my interest for long.

Instead I eventually dug out an old fishing pole from the basement and went out back to the creek.

I stared out at the water as I waited for a bite, daydreaming of the grand garden I’d have some day. And maybe, just maybe, by then I’d have someone to share it with. Though at this point I couldn’t really imagine who or what. I was so shy, I’d never had any boyfriends in school. Berry, I’d never even been kissed before. How sad was that?

I got a few nibbles that night, but nothing too fancy. Just a few minnows, most of which I went ahead and tossed back. I kept a few to fertilize my little garden though.

That night I made myself some Autumn Salad for dinner. It’s pretty much the only thing I know how to make, and I didn’t need to use the stove to make it. The old thing looks like it’s been in this house since before my parents lived here, Berry knows it’d probably set the whole place on fire if I tried to use it.

I didn’t mind the salad though. It’s actually my favorite. My mama still made it better than me, in my opinion, but it definitely hit the spot.

After dinner I relaxed for a bit in bed before going to sleep. Taking in all the changes in my life. The house needed some TLC that’s for sure, but it was mine. That’s really all that mattered to me.

That night I dreamt of my garden. I’d have vegetables and fruits of every type, each one of them perfect and beautiful. I’d be the greatest farmer in Twinberry someday . . . .

The next morning I was up bright and early to tend my tiny plot.

After the plants had been taken care of for the day, I decided to go ahead and get my registration down at city hall taken care of. I had been dreading it a little, but the bills certainly weren’t going to pay themselves. Being registered would allow me to sell my produce at the grocery store at a premium. I couldn’t pass it up. Still, the cab ride into town was extremely uncomfortable. The driver tried to strike up a conversation, but I was so tongue-tied that I just stared out the window and she eventually gave up.

Then it was up the steps and into city hall. Mercy, I can’t wait til this is over with . . . .

After that I was free to retreat back to my farm and my peace and quiet. The days began to blur together a bit, though I was comfortable with the routine. Wake up, eat breakfast, work in the garden, shower, fish a bit in the afternoon, eat supper, go to sleep. I found myself striking up one-sided conversations with my sprouts from time to time, if just to hear the sound of someone’s voice. My mama would always sing to the plants, but I couldn’t carry a tune to save my life. My own garden would just have to make-do with chipper conversation.

And of course, there was always some housework to break up the monotony. Cleaning things definitely wasn’t my favorite thing to do by far, but it still needed to get done just the same.

Weeks passed, and I grew comfortable in my easy routine. And then one morning, I got a surprise visitor . . . 

((There you have it, the first installment. The beginning is always a bit slow, but I promise it'll start picking up next installment. Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to comment here or on the Sims Forum, I love hearing feedback.))