Lily had always loved her grandmother’s garden. As a child, she spent endless summer days running through rows of daisies and sunflowers, her tiny hands covered in soil as her grandmother taught her the secrets of the earth. “The garden listens,” her grandmother would say with a wink, “it hears all our dreams and carries them with the wind.”
Years passed, and Lily grew up, leaving the small countryside home for a bustling life in the city. Her visits became less frequent, but her memories of the garden stayed vivid, a peaceful sanctuary in her heart. Eventually, life’s busyness caught up, and she hadn’t returned to the garden in what felt like forever.
One day, a phone call came. Her grandmother had passed away quietly in her sleep. The news hit Lily harder than she had expected. The next morning, she returned to the house she hadn’t visited in years, feeling the weight of loss pressing on her heart.
The house was just as she remembered, but the garden was different. It was overgrown, wild with tangled vines and weeds. What had once been her grandmother’s pride now stood as a sad reminder of time’s passage. But as Lily wandered through the neglected beds, something caught her eye—a small patch of daisies, still standing tall, as if waiting for her.
Kneeling beside them, Lily could almost hear her grandmother’s voice in the wind. The garden listened, just like her grandmother had said, carrying with it years of laughter, stories, and love. Overcome with emotion, she whispered, “I’m here, Grandma.”
In that moment, she knew what she had to do. Over the next few days, Lily restored the garden, bringing it back to life, one flower at a time. Each bloom felt like a small piece of her grandmother returning, echoing their shared love and the lessons she’d learned in that sacred space.
Though her grandmother was gone, Lily realized she would always be there—in every flower that bloomed, in every breeze that passed through the garden. The garden, just like their love, would never truly die.
（via chatgpt | Contact Us）
