Martin Bass

Miranda's Botanical Garden

It was all in a dream. The dream which existed for 5 consecutive days conjured the most agony Miranda had ever experienced. She was mourning the loss of her mother. A mother that was stoic and quite shrewd but was the most important being in her life. As an only child, Miranda’s mother instilled the importance of expressive writing and time management, things Miranda failed miserably at. She would do anything for her mother but could not get over the fact her mother’s sudden death left her with no further instructions on life. Her mother was Meredith Ladson, an orator, accomplished author, and scholar. It was much to live up to. Although free from her mother’s discernment, she now desperately craved answers to questions she had never imagined asking. Not one heirloom remained. There were no photos or handwritten notes that Miranda could cling to. Her mother’s home and belongings were ravaged in a fire just weeks before she succumbed to an illness. At 30 years old, Miranda had not become an Attorney, an amazing writer, nor any profession that aligned with her mother’s expectations. She was unmarried and childless, but she exuded love. Miranda loved people, nature, and she lived haphazardly in a way that frightened her mother but was beautiful. Unfortunately, Miranda’s free spiritedness did not prepare her for losing the only constant in her life.