I used to come here when I was younger, well, I've come here ever since I remember really, but when I was younger and with my mum, I'd just sit on the green grass beneath the willow tree. The view of the waterfall would always make me happy and always find it's way into my dreams as the setting.

Whether it's to paint or just think, I come here. Of course, some people must know of this, but whenever I'm here; no one else is. It's like my place, and my mothers.

Her mother had died when she was seven, all her memories of her is at this waterfall, even at Christmas once...they made snowmen as the little lake at the bottom of the waterfall was iced over; nobody dared go on it, it could've fallen through for all that they knew! Even Izzy's dad was there; normally he's at work but he'd took the day off to be with them! That was just a couple of weeks before her mother, Su, got ill and sadly died.

School's boring, as always. Double maths and science today, like I'll need that for my future. I'll be an artist when I'm older, it's the only thing anyone's ever complimented me on; in art you can let your emotions out, without screaming or overreacting.

If you come here early enough, you can hear the birds sing, in the spring, when the tulips begin to grow and the sky seems to be the brightest blue. When I feel sad with tears dripping from my face like a leaf slipping from a branch off the willow tree from above me, I came here. Just as then, I come here everyday, same as before; tears slipping, gripping to my cheek.

When you go up to the top of the waterfall, the view's breathtaking. From greenery and ladybirds to shops and parks, you can see it. At night, you see it all in front of the horizon, the sunsets with purple and red swirled across the sky. It's beautiful.

It was apparently a hot summer in England whilst Izzy was on holiday in Spain. She remembered thinking on the plane if the sun still sets like it did? Would she return to Spain again? It was lovely, peaceful. But she knew something was missing. Her waterfall.

When I reached back home, it was very hot. The sun was blinding, like in Spain. After I'd packed I went to my waterfall. It wasn't there; all that was left was big, dry rocks where the pure water used to flow.

She ran to the top, no water, no mother. She cried and cried till her skin was raw, so much, but not enough that the waterfall would run again.

Sitting there, all I could think about was when would the sunset? Over night, would the tears that the moon will shed be enough? Would they?

She waited for hours, clinging onto hopes that the one thing still there, wouldn't say goodbye and leave her with no memories. Her waterfall.

My memories