It's been months and she hasn't checked her patio to see if the tulip was still in the vase. Surely it hadn't survived the winter. Too much going on - interviews, meetings, work - the kind of blase, local small town celebrity kept her from glancing much at the tulip anymore.
The winter had been.....hard. Ice ruined many things and the snow hurt the rest. On the first warm day since November, she stepped out in the morning with her mug and looked to the corner.
The tulip was gone. So was the bud vase it came in.
She had expected the flower to die - even disintegrate with the weather, but not the vase.
Someone took it.
Or it shattered.
Did it matter after all?
She couldn't decide. She let the aroma of her coffee waft slowly upwards and breathed in the reality of a handful of months, even years, gone.
She had new worries, new joys, and news to share.
And she still had her half of the note.
She always saves her notes.
Even though she doesn't know why. Perhaps she forgot parts of her reason, her rationale in the accident. She wasn't sure.
What she did know was this -
When the winter comes, and even the prettiest, most fragile things die, life continues and perseveres.
This made her happy - everyday.
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