At the top of the hill, she saw her. The distant shadow, erect. She stood stoic, watching. The long, envious curls air born, arms crossed, fringe shawl covering her body. Georgia started to bawl, too drained to move, she watched her mother descend each step in the pitch dark, no flashlight necessary. This was her world, Adelaide knew every rock, nook, pebble on the way down. The cement steps, secret burial nooks held hidden notes, desires, fears, childhood dreams, first kiss, true loves, babies, her father and mother’s imprints. Music drifted from the house, melodies accompanied days spent at her beach. She wasn’t sure exactly, how she’d make it down those rocks without him. Embrace her with his strong, tan, loving arms. Her daddy was always there, waiting. She saw her firstborn, lying alone in the dark, curled up on wet, angry sand, and she knew. This wasn’t about her, or him. He’d given her all his love. It was about being a mother to the broken child who needed her. Adelaide said nothing, she lay down next to her crimson beauty, covering her with Harry’s cashmere shawl. Georgia was shivering; Addie did not move, did not dare. She waited, unsure who was grieving more. Zack had so much love, no one drew the short stick.
“Mommy?” Addie’s tears hitting the sand. She didn’t speak, terrified to say the wrong thing. “Was it me?” Adelaide could barely stand it, “don’t be silly. You were his favorite, don’t tell your sisters.”
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