A Lovely Rose

Bright sunlight streamed through my light curtains, and the light seeped through my eyelids and awoke my tiny eight-year-old body. I blinked my eyes and sat up, yawning and stretching. I smiled as I noticed Mother had already laid my clothes out on my bed, which meant she was already in the garden. If I hurried, I could catch her in time.

I quickly got myself dressed, then ran from the house and to our garden where my mother always spent her mornings. When I was about five feet away, I saw her sitting on the bench, her light brown, almost blond, hair pulled back into a neat braid. I felt my smile grow wider as I saw the silver object she held. She held it up to her lips, parallel to the sky, and I heard the same, sweet flute song she played every morning. I walked over and sat on the ground in front of her. She smiled, and I knew that meant she wanted me to sing along. So, as she played the main melody, I sang:


I love all the flowers on these roaming hills,

The sun always setting over the graining mills,

But even my love for the sky so blue,

Can never compare to my love for you.


Mother took her flute down and smiled, smoothing down my messy blonde hair as I climbed up on the bench beside her. “Beautiful singing, Katie,” she commented.

I giggled. “Beautiful playing, mother! Will you play it again?” I asked eagerly. Mother had written that song herself, words, notes and all, and I never got tired of hearing it.

“I can’t right now. I promised your brother I would attend his practice battle with your father.” She gathered her belongings. “Maybe you and I can come out later. Just us,” she somewhat promised. She looked out toward the hills, taking in a deep breath. “Scotland is a beautiful place, isn’t it Katelyn?” Mother turned and left for the field beside the house, humming her tune to herself.

I sighed, looking out at the pond. I remember very clearly that right then, the pond seemed more beautiful than it usually did. The sun seemed to hit the water more perfectly than normal, and the shimmers that were sent off the ripples of the water seemed mesmerizing to my six-year-old mind. I could see why mother loved this spot so much- it was beautiful.

Just like her heart; truly beautiful.






*****


Why must the good be punished?

It wasn’t fair. Why was mother so sick? What had she ever done to deserve this? Nothing. And now she lie in bed, not the tiniest bit of strength or motivation left in her; a broken soul that didn’t wish to be.

During the past four years, more had happened then just the aging of my brother and I. Mother had gotten weaker and weaker, sicker and sicker with each passing day. Nowadays, she couldn’t leave bed, let alone sit up with out feeling exhausted. Each morning I’d look out my window, only to remind myself that there would be no more regular visits to the garden each morning. There would never be again.

Shamus, my twin brother, and I were waiting outside our mother’s chamber, waiting for our father to tell us we could enter. Yet another doctor was inside her room, trying to repair my mother’s broken body. Father had called doctors from all over, but not one had been able to help my mother.

Suddenly, the doctor walked out, leaving without saying a word. I looked at my father, who stood in the doorway, pure distress written plainly on his face. He gave us both a nod, telling us we could come in. I immediately went in and walked over to my mother’s side.

Mother opened an eye. “Katie, my daughter,” she whispered, which was all she could manage. “I…I need to speak to you.”

I swallowed hard, grabbing her hand. “What is it, mother?”

She smiled weakly at me. “I won’t be around much longer…even you see that. I want you to know…that I love you, so much, and I’ll always be with you…”

I shook my head, fighting back tears. Seeing me cry wouldn’t be good for her. “Mother, don’t say such a thing. You’ll be fine, I know it!” I smiled, but my tears gave way and I broke down in sobs. “You have to be ok! You must!”

Mother weakly put her hand on my cheek. I grabbed a hold of it and pressed into it, her touch so comforting, so calming. “Katelyn, sing with me. One last time, please?”

I swallowed hard, then nodded. I took a breath, and she began to weakly sing with me:



I love all the flowers on these roaming hills,

The sun always setting over the graining mills,

But even my love for the sky so blue,

Can never compare to my love for you.



My tears were running down mother’s arm, but no matter how hard I tried to stop weeping, I couldn’t. I loved mother so much, and to see her like this was killing me. “Mother…” I whispered. “Please get well. I… I can’t be without you!”

“I love you, Katie,” she whispered. She looked over at my brother, who was standing in the corner of the room, his face blank and emotionless, as if he didn’t care that mother was on her death bed. “Shamus, I’m so proud of you,” she told him. He simply looked away.

Looking back at me, she said yet again, “I love you Katie…never forget that..” Mother’s hand dropped from my grasp, and her glassy blue eyes finally shut. Mother was dead.

“Mother? Mother?!” I repeated, feeling myself get panicked. What was I to do? I couldn’t live without her!

Shamus just left the room, not a word said, and my father started to cry and call out my mother’s name, his Scottish accent not fitting in well with his sobs. And me? I stood there, shocked and uncertain of what I should do next, my tears falling quietly.

Mother was dead. My heart was broken. And we had lost such a wonderful soul.





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