He lost her in the blink of an eye. The flowers, over thirty years old in that same spot, still bloom. They sow themselves each fall, independent, determined…just like her. Some years they are thick, some years shy in their display. But always there…just like her. As they wave in the wind I think of her smile...her warmth. No matter how long she has been gone...the memories, sometimes heavy, sometimes a wisp on the late summer breeze, always return.
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