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Camile Thorne lived a simple life in Portland, Oregon. Her family consisted of her two insufferable brothers, two loving parents, and an overbearing yet endlessly caring grandmother.
At seven years old, life felt perfect.
She had decent grades, a best friend who shared her lunch every day, and was surrounded by a family that loved her endlessly. There were countless blessings woven into her childhood, though at that age, however, too young to realize it.
Of all the people in her life, her grandmother held the most special place in her heart.
Behind her grandmother's house stretched a garden overflowing with flowers of every shape, size, and color. To most people, it was simply a garden. To Camile, it was a world of its own.
Her grandmother would guide her through rows of roses, daisies, lilies, and lavender, teaching her that no flower was ever truly the same as another.
Overtime, Camile learned more than how to plant seeds and care for flowers. Hidden within each lesson was a piece of wisdom about life itself. To everyone else, they were only 'planting flowers'. To Camile, they were conversations in a language only she and her grandmother understood.
When Camile was sixteen, everything changed.
Her grandmother passed away, leaving behind an empty chair on their front porch.
The loss hurt more than Camile could describe, but she remembered what her grandmother had taught her. Flowers wilted. Seasons changed. Life moved forward.
So instead of dwelling on the moments they would never share, Camile chose to cherish the ones they had. She continued tending the garden, carrying her grandmother's love for flowers with her wherever she went.
But just as she began finding her footing again, her parents announced they were moving.
Los Angeles, California.
As she stared at the garden one last time, she couldn't help but wonder whether she was leaving behind more than just her home.
And whether some flowers were destined to bloom again or wilt forever.