The last roses for her. She loved roses
Last night she came to tea. She was waiting for the end of my work to talk. I could not always accept it. For this, it was necessary to stop my turbulent flow of life. She is my neighbor.
She is 90 years old. She lived a great life. She was a wife, a widow, a mother. Then she was left alone. She always wants to share her memories. They contain all of her life, her happiness and her world. But yesterday she talked about the present.
"I admit, I do not want to die. I'm afraid of death. I was not afraid twenty years ago. Now I'm afraid that I will have to leave. I dreamed that I was a bride. Everything is like seventy years ago. I love him, but I'm afraid of a new life. I cry, and he does not understand my tears. He's afraid of my tears. I was afraid of his tears too. He cried when he first took our daughter in his arms. They left together. Autocatalyst. He was forty years old. She was twenty years old. And I'm half a century alone. I always wanted to see them. But now I want to be here. Be with you. Watch how you make dinner. This adds to my joy. "
Today I drink my evening hour alone. She died. She went to them. I just found out about it. She liked the yellow color too. Tomorrow I'll buy her the last yellow roses ... And I'll remember.
