And, why wouldn’t it be?
She pre-paid and planned for it all before she died.
Always the forward-thinking woman, no one was going to be able to leave any details out.
The rose garden was to be her final resting place.
She’d say, “Where else would I want to be?”
“These roses have helped me create beautiful paintings that will live on in the homes of so many, long after I’m gone”.
Her garden was magical. She could grow just about anything.
I’m sure she’s looking down at us all and saying,“Pick up a paint brush and make magic happen”.
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 113 words