There were a lot of activities going on in the house towards the burial.
The house felt lonely still.
I will miss Amaa.
I stared at the wreath made from the flowers in Amaa's garden. I remembered how much time she spent there.
It was her tradition to sit at a corner with her crotchet pin and her wool after tending to the flowers. She always had a look of contentment.
"It smells nice here." "And the air feels different" She would reply every time I asked what she was doing outside.
I promised her I would celebrate her clocking 120 this year. She had replied that it wasn't necessary. I guess she knew.
With her fragile body, she moves from one chore to the other. Stubborn as hell, she wouldn't listen to anyone when told to rest.
I will miss Amaa's stories. Especially those of the civil war that happened in her youth.
I smiled as I was jolted back to reality. It was time to say goodbye.
I think it won't be goodbye after all. Everything about the house would remind me of Amaa.
And I intend to Cherish it for a long time.
Good night Amaa.
Thank you for reading.
Picture source: pixabay
Prompt: Fragile things
The 5 minutes daily freewrites prompt, courtesy of 
