Stop and write about “you show up when no one else does” if you wish. Or you could [[a mind to meander|go back to where the river begins]]. ---- In the dimly lit room of an old Victorian mansion, [[a small bead of melted wax]] dripped from a candle onto a dusty wooden table. The room was filled with antique furniture, heavy drapes, and the faint scent of lavender. The wax slowly formed a small puddle as it cooled, its shape resembling that of a teardrop. In the corner of the room sat an old woman named Evelyn, her wrinkled hands carefully sewing a delicate lace doily. She had lived in the mansion for most of her life, her days spent in solitude, surrounded by memories of the past. The mansion had once been alive with laughter and joy, but now it stood as a silent witness to the passage of time. As Evelyn stitched, her mind drifted back to a time long ago, when the mansion was filled with warmth and happiness. She remembered the parties and gatherings, the music and laughter that echoed through the halls. But those days were gone now, lost to the passage of time. A soft knock on the door interrupted Evelyn's thoughts, and she looked up to see her granddaughter, Emily, standing in the doorway. Emily was a bright young woman with a kind heart, her eyes filled with curiosity and compassion. "Grandma," Emily said, her voice gentle, "I brought you some tea." Evelyn smiled warmly and set aside her sewing. "Thank you, dear. That's very kind of you." Emily placed the tray of tea on the table and took a seat opposite her grandmother. As they sipped their tea in comfortable silence, Evelyn couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness wash over her. The mansion felt empty and lifeless, its walls echoing with the ghosts of the past. "Grandma," Emily said softly, breaking the silence, "why do you stay here all alone? Don't you ever get lonely?" Evelyn sighed and looked down at her hands, the memories flooding back with painful clarity. "This house holds so many memories, Emily. It's where I raised your mother, where I shared so much of my life with your grandfather. But now... now it feels like a prison, trapping me in the past." Emily reached out and took her grandmother's hand, a gesture of comfort and understanding. "You don't have to stay here, Grandma. You can come live with me and Dad. We'd love to have you." Evelyn's heart swelled with love for her granddaughter, her eyes brimming with tears. "Oh, Emily," she whispered, "you're so kind. But this is my home, my sanctuary. I couldn't bear to leave it behind." Emily nodded, her expression filled with compassion. "I understand, Grandma. But just know that we're here for you, whenever you need us." As they sat together in the quiet room, the small bead of melted wax on the table began to cool and harden, its shape frozen in time. And though the mansion may have been filled with echoes of the past, Evelyn knew that she was not alone. She had her memories, her granddaughter's love, and the warmth of a small bead of melted wax to remind her that even in the darkest of times, there was still beauty to be found.