I had a dream about your mum last night.... I don't know where we all were, or where you were, but there was a group of people, and I was upstairs in a room with her helping get something together; it was a party or some event, that's what it felt like. At one point we were both next to each other on the bed, leaning back against the pillows, and I turned my head towards her and started to say, "Rosie I have a problem. I love your son." I called her Rosie in my dream... I started to say that, but we were talking about something else. And then we were talking about something else, then something else. And then we had to get up and do something or talk to someone or deal with something, and the whole time I just kept thinking, "Rosie I have a problem; Rosie, I have a problem; Rosie... your son..." but I never said it out loud.
This morning I was drinking my orange juice and staring at my white roses; they're all dead and brown and droopy now, the leaves are shriveled, the water is low and no longer clear. But I stared right through them and back overseas, and thought of Rosie. And when I took a deep breath to see if my favorite smell still lingered, my cinnamon waffle popped and that was all I could smell, and it brought me back to now.