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Three-Word Prompt: Love, heart, roses Part 3/3

And that was the time when my nanna died, too. How he healed me, got me ready to face the world again, while breathing life into a bush of flowers—there was no way I could understand that. But he did, and when Widow Stanwick was well again she walked out to the gate and saw her blooming roses and that healed her all over again.

And now that Thad is old, and many of his friends have died, and nobody will hire him, little has changed for him except that the parts of his heart that people took into theirs are now buried with those old friends, so he’s reduced in his ways and has less love for himself. So here I am, with him in my home.

I love him and I always will. When the flowers in his heart start to wither away, the Dear knows, I will tend them. If I can’t make them grow again, I will find a way to transplant that love.

Or rather, our son has started a little garden of his own now. Fertile soil for the new generation. Sun and rain, loving and pain. All for the growth of our beautiful roses.

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