07/13/2025
“The Window Garden”
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After her grandmother passed away, Lily felt the old house had lost its soul. The once-bright kitchen now seemed quiet and hollow. Rain tapped gently on the windows that once framed sunshine and laughter.
One rainy afternoon, while cleaning the attic, Lily found a box labeled “For Spring.” Inside were bundles of dried wildflowers, each one carefully pressed and labeled in her grandmother’s handwriting: “Cornflower – May,” “Lavender – June,” “Daisy – July.” Along with them was a note:
“To Lily. So you never forget how beauty can bloom even in silence.”
Lily cried for the first time in weeks.
That night, she couldn’t sleep. So she stayed up, threading each flower into a chicken-wire frame she found in the shed. With every bloom she added, she remembered something: her grandmother humming as she baked, the smell of chamomile tea, a soft hand tucking her in.
By morning, the frame was full — a garden on the window, frozen in time.
As the rain continued to fall, soft morning light filtered through the delicate petals, casting colorful shadows on the floor. And for the first time in a long time, Lily smiled.
Her grandmother was still there — in every flower, in every light-filled memory. And the house, once again, felt like home.