Isabelle Robuck
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Her Brother's Flower
Her legs felt heavy as they carried her through the greenhouse. It was one of the first nice days of spring. The air was gentle and warm enough to wear shorts and a comfy sweater, so she took advantage of it. April was one of the most unpredictable months of the year in the Midwest. One day, it could be sunny and wonderful; the next likely brought sub-freezing wind chills and flurries. She stood still and smiled as the sun hit her legs, curiously looking at the world around her. She knew she wasn’t much of a plant person. She deeply admired a beautiful garden when she saw one, but she wasn’t the best at keeping them alive on her own. Back home, her mom had the most wonderful green thumb. Although she only visited once or twice a year, she looked forward to seeing what masterpiece her mom had created; she had so much open ground to play with on the farm. Of everything her mom cared for, her favorite was the giant rose bush in the front yard, by the old basketball goal. It bloomed once a year and produced the most brilliantly different shades of pink roses.
By Isabelle Robuck4 years ago in Fiction
