Remembering

Walking out into the fields, remembering.

Memories as light as feathers, as soft as lambs fur.

No full memories, just small segments of each...

Her smile, her laugh, her warm hugs.

Brushing past the roses, the dandelions, thinking, remembering.

Her graceful movements, her gentle grip, her loving face lighting up the room.

Closing eyes, digging deeper, back into the past.

Wading through the knee-deep grass, still deep in thought and memory.

Seeing her face break into a smile, her arms ready for a hug.

Flashforward 3 years; face weak and haggard, smile lost- gone with no traces.

Bare, lifeless figure. Laying. Crying. Dying.

Dead.

Opening eyes, shaking away the bad memories, concentrating on the flowers.

No. Not the flowers. Anything but. She planted them.

Memories: Her hands gracefully digging round holes and inserting the flowers.

Standing back, dusting off her hands, smiling. They used to be small green sprouts.

Now they're long red roses, with beautiful big petals.

Stop with the memories. Tears gather, filling eyes.

Those flowers. That smile. That laugh.

That person.

Gone.