Post the war, there was a shakiness left in her. She constantly feared for the ground opening up under her feet. It was a real fear that she couldn’t shake.
She had a small garden filled with aliveness. People complimented on her careful design, the layers, the colors and how she looked when she took care of the flowers and the trees.
She would smile. She wasn’t sure the smile was visible. She kept on trying.
She needed something to grab hold onto when the ground split open. The garden held her, gently.
