The first day of spring was always her favourite of the year. For some, it was a birthday but for Rose, the change of the season and the new hope it brought was her choice. The warmth in the air and the feeling of nature restoring itself from its winter hibernation was palpable in the conditions and in the songs of the warbling birds returning to the Dell.
As crocuses, snowdrops and daffodils began to appear in irregular patches, stretching towards the warming vernal sun, hardening themselves against the overnight frosts that threatened to drag the developing progress back into the hard, icy winter.
Standing on the edge of the meadow, looking down the path leading from the Dell near the toadstool homes of her neighbours, she mused over the changes that life had brought recently and felt the immense sense of symbolism that nature’s revival from its dormant state mirroring the hardships she had endured over the previous season of her life.
The loss of love and betrayal of her feelings had hit harder than she previously cared to admit to both herself and others. Knowing her beloved had sought companionship in the arms of another while masquerading as being resolute in their devotion to her had a peculiar sting; seeing them together, flaunting their happiness publicly, knowing they had hurt her but disinclined to show remorse.
Betrayal by loved ones had caused her to retreat into herself, building up defences to protect from the seemingly inevitable pain others unwittingly inflicted. Her once close friendships had wilted, unable to survive their efforts to penetrate the frozen exterior, withdrawing to the safe confines of other friendships.
Her bleak outlook had recently started to thaw as she began to dissect the decisions that had unconsciously led to the events. Maybe her incessant desire to be helpful had stretched her to the point she had neglected the relationships she took for granted. Perhaps even, in the process, she had lost perspective of the relationship she had with the most important person in her life: Rose.
A season of introspection had brought her thinking back into sync with her incessantly evolving environment. Restoration of self needed to be followed by the restitution of previous relationships and all this had led to this point in time.
It was why on a fresh Spring day, Rose had arrived early to centre her thoughts on what needed to be done. She had prepared her apologies and was steeling herself to keep her emotional state under control so she could deliver her monologue.
In the distance she saw them.
They were approaching together and suddenly all the time spent composing herself felt like moments wasted, her previously calm demeanour replaced with an internalised sense of angst.
As she watched them draw closer, a sudden realisation: her words, at their core were simply no more than that. Words. And words without actions are hollow and worthless. She knew what was needed.
After what seemed like an eternity, her friends arrived at the prearranged location, curious and apprehensive as to why their friend who had seemingly discarded them now wanted to meet.
Eyes met, as Rose glanced slowly round the arc that had subconsciously formed, sensing their trepidation. She walked forward and flung her arms around the nearest friend, Ivy and felt sobs rack her slender frame as her friends rushed to support her as she slumped to the ground.
Time passed with nothing more than friends, together, silently rebuilding the bonds strained through months of apathy and self-inflicted absenteeism. Right there, in that moment, they all knew that they would make it through.
Together.