![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
[Almost OOM] Molly
Alex recognises the stone wall and the garden path, lined with the last of the roses now fading with the year. Big, beautiful heads of blossoms, nodding in the breeze, only a little ratty. She always kept them healthy and they paid her back in spades.
She doesn't recognise the young woman with the rake, all bundled up against the cold. The woman staring at her with wide brown eyes, almost as if she'd seen a ghost.
"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. Had to stop to see the roses," Alex explains, pulling her jacket close around her, crossing her arms over her chest. "I, erm, used to live here." That's not right, is it? It's still her house. Back in 2008. "They're looking lovely this year."
The woman glances down at the plants, and back up at the stranger at the end of her garden wall. "Yes, they are. I, my godfather, he -- we -- I mean, it's hard work. Keeping them looking so good."
"It's worth it, don't you think?" She doesn't know why, but all of a sudden, it matters to her, what this young woman thinks.
"I suppose? I mean, my mother would approve. She used to spend hours out here, weeding on her hands and knees. I used to think she was just trying to get out of the house when I was practising my piano."
"Yes, well, there are other benefits, but still... It's good exercise," she starts. No, that's not all, is it? "And it's -- satisfying, to put your hands in the earth. To see your care and attention bring up something so beautiful, the whole world can't deny the truth of it."
The young woman ventures closer as Alex talks, and she gets the distinct impression she's being scrutinised. "So she wasn't running away?"
"Oh no, not at all. I mean, I don't know her, do I? But no, I'd wager all she needed was the time to think. About raising a child on her own, about all the little battles that brings. About her own career and love life, and how to integrate that with her most important goal, being a good mother."
"Oh." The young woman looks puzzled, her gaze focused on Alex's shoes for a moment before darting up to her face. "She -- was a good mother. She was my best friend. I mean, before... I was only twelve."
Alex's own attention has wandered back to the heavy-headed roses, watching the wind knock the petals down, one by one, sending them tumbling along the hard-packed path. "She tried her best. It's all we can do, isn't it?" The question isn't really one you expect an answer to. "Our best?"
"Yes." The woman moves to lean the rake against the wall and when she turns back, she glances around, as if the garden is empty again.
Alex watches her, watches the confusion in her eyes fade away as she shakes her head. She walks passed Alex, back up the steps into the house, quiet as a mouse. It's strange, how familiar she looks.
She only wakes when her chin hits her chest, and the jolt shakes her out of the dream. She's fallen asleep in a corner booth, and there's a wait rat looking expectantly at her. "That was odd."
The creature shrugs and offers to refill her tea.
"No, sorry. I should be getting back." There's a file in her desk, one that she needs to look at. "Thanks anyway. Just put it on my tab?"
The roses will have to wait for another day.
She doesn't recognise the young woman with the rake, all bundled up against the cold. The woman staring at her with wide brown eyes, almost as if she'd seen a ghost.
"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. Had to stop to see the roses," Alex explains, pulling her jacket close around her, crossing her arms over her chest. "I, erm, used to live here." That's not right, is it? It's still her house. Back in 2008. "They're looking lovely this year."
The woman glances down at the plants, and back up at the stranger at the end of her garden wall. "Yes, they are. I, my godfather, he -- we -- I mean, it's hard work. Keeping them looking so good."
"It's worth it, don't you think?" She doesn't know why, but all of a sudden, it matters to her, what this young woman thinks.
"I suppose? I mean, my mother would approve. She used to spend hours out here, weeding on her hands and knees. I used to think she was just trying to get out of the house when I was practising my piano."
"Yes, well, there are other benefits, but still... It's good exercise," she starts. No, that's not all, is it? "And it's -- satisfying, to put your hands in the earth. To see your care and attention bring up something so beautiful, the whole world can't deny the truth of it."
The young woman ventures closer as Alex talks, and she gets the distinct impression she's being scrutinised. "So she wasn't running away?"
"Oh no, not at all. I mean, I don't know her, do I? But no, I'd wager all she needed was the time to think. About raising a child on her own, about all the little battles that brings. About her own career and love life, and how to integrate that with her most important goal, being a good mother."
"Oh." The young woman looks puzzled, her gaze focused on Alex's shoes for a moment before darting up to her face. "She -- was a good mother. She was my best friend. I mean, before... I was only twelve."
Alex's own attention has wandered back to the heavy-headed roses, watching the wind knock the petals down, one by one, sending them tumbling along the hard-packed path. "She tried her best. It's all we can do, isn't it?" The question isn't really one you expect an answer to. "Our best?"
"Yes." The woman moves to lean the rake against the wall and when she turns back, she glances around, as if the garden is empty again.
Alex watches her, watches the confusion in her eyes fade away as she shakes her head. She walks passed Alex, back up the steps into the house, quiet as a mouse. It's strange, how familiar she looks.
She only wakes when her chin hits her chest, and the jolt shakes her out of the dream. She's fallen asleep in a corner booth, and there's a wait rat looking expectantly at her. "That was odd."
The creature shrugs and offers to refill her tea.
"No, sorry. I should be getting back." There's a file in her desk, one that she needs to look at. "Thanks anyway. Just put it on my tab?"
The roses will have to wait for another day.