It's Not About The Broken-down Fence

The final occupant lived here 25 years ago when the last family survivor died. She had lovingly planted and tended these flowers, long before he took over the county coroner job from his late dad. Every season that came and went, he saw the flowers bloom, almost in defiance of the advancing decay on the small scratch farm, somewhere.

 David loved the lady and her husband, both had darned or mended many a clothing item or broken gadget of his. He had never had a mom and they never had kids. He believes, she tends the flowers still because no weeds grow there. Thank you for everything, and for being my MOM

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