My Wilted Rose.

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My Wilted Rose

It was Sunday, 12th October. The first thought that came into my head as woke was 'Linda would have been 15 today.' I struggled out of bed with a heavy heart. Glancing at my reflection in the mirror I could see the bump just beginning to show in my tummy. 'But the rest of you looks scrawny, there's no other word for it' I told myself fiercely.

Downstairs set about breakfast for Patrick and James, suddenly I couldn't face them. 'Gone for a walk, back at tea-time,' I wrote, propping my note up on the table, 'breakfast on the table, sarnies, apple pie and cream in the pantry for lunch.'

Taking an apple, a chunk of cheese and a small bottle of water, I let myself out of the kitchen door. Judging by the sounds on the upstairs landing the others were up and ready!

How Linda would have loved today, I thought. Autumn had always been her favourite time. As I crossed the lawn and started to climb upwards onto the moor the memories flooded back.

'Just look at the colours on those trees, Mum; aren't they just grand?' Linda had said at a picnic on her eighth birthday. Jenny, a lively curly-headed, brown-eyed four year old, had rolled about in merriment, with no thought for things of beauty. Linda, blonde and blue-eyed, had always been the delicate, sensitive one, and if I was honest I had felt closer to her than to the matter-of-fact Jenny, who was her Daddy’s girl, sturdy and dependable, a born farmer if you can believe it.

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Patrick would be angry with me I knew, for he was always telling me to pull myself together. 'Life is for the living,' he had said firmly, 'Linda wouldn't want you to brood.' But I needed today to remember her, to hold the memories safe in my heart where they belong.

'Great news about the baby' everyone said, 'it'll help you to get over Linda.' The anger boiled inside me. I didn't want to 'get over' her. I wanted to keep her alive for ever. I didn't want a new baby, I was afraid of getting emotionally involved again, ...

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