"Margaret! Maaaaargaret!! Come quickly!!!"
"What is it Steven? Are you ok?" Margaret said, as she dashed into the sitting room.
"More than ok, I'm excited!" he squealed "Look at my plant! I've got a plant!!"
Sure enough, as she leant over the small box balanced on the windowsill, there it was. Small and delicate, just like Steven, yet it gave her hope. Steven had been ill for some time now and only a miracle would see him walking again. The Doctors had said he was a moderate case and would survive it but it meant each day was still rather precious.
You would think that peace across the globe would bring more joy than it had. The men had come home and women were there waiting for them and to resume their prewar lives, if they could. For Margaret it was a little harder since she and Steven were the last in her family. She had found work as a typist and was able to bring some home to do. That had become more and more important since Steven's sudden illness. They said it was an epidemic, that children everywhere were dropping like flies. Another blow to people across the globe who had lost young to war graves. There was no cure she was told.
She gazed at his smiling face and knew there was pain underneath. Oh, he'd put on a "brave little boy" face for her as much as he could. There were times when she caught him staring wistfully out the window to the garden he would never run around in again.
The window box had been a suggestion from the nurses at the infirmary. Perhaps, they said, if he had something to look forward to he might recover better. Her eyes were drawn to the small seedling that had risen from below the soil. The one that had been brave and tough enough to erupt from it's cocoon. She felt it was a start, albeit small. Steven's face and squeals of delight nearly made her cry.
As she turned to go back to her work Margaret shed a tear and smiled. It was moments like these that made everything else seem easier to bear.
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