Flotsam and Jetsam

A story about a family - excuse the exceedingly cheesy romance. This, like most of my longer works, is an old baby of mine, approximately eighteen months of age. Set in my favourite place on Earth.

“Aoife,” said her aunt, “what will you do now?”

“I don’t know,” said Aoife, tears dripping down her nose. “I just don’t know.”

“Will you do something for me?”

Trusting hazel eyes appealed to the young girl, and she pulled herself together.

“What is it? I will do anything for you, Auntie ‘Nymph’. I don’t know how to thank you for everything you have done for me over the years.”

“You can thank me by your love,” whispered the dying woman. “Love is everything I want and everything I need.”

“I do, I do!” cried Aoife.

“And by loving my children. They need someone to help them, Aoife. They have a hard time ahead of them. Growing up is difficult, especially if one does not entirely comprehend one’s surroundings. Just…be there for them, Aoife.”

“I will bring them up, Auntie!” pledged Aoife valiantly. “I will help them with every ounce of strength I have, as you helped me through my own young years. I will do everything I possibly can.”

“I know you will,” came the murmur from the bed. “Now go, my dear; and remember that you are loved by people whom you could never guess, for whoever you are and whatever you are. You are loved more than I can describe.”

“Yes, Auntie,” said Aoife, straightening her shoulders and drying her tears. She would be strong for her cousins, if not for herself.

“Thank you, Aoife,” said her aunt.

The End

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