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Looking through these old photos from 1992, I remember when Sarah planted those rosebushes in the front yard. David was just six then, helping her with his little red watering can. That garden meant everything to her.

You know, I, I was thinking the other day while making tea with my friend Henry, and I said, Henry, why, why do we blow on hot things to cool them down? And he, he just stared at me. Sometimes, you know, silence is, is the best answer. Not that he had a choice anymore.

Remember that old maple tree in our backyard? Sarah planted it in 1990, just after David started school. Every fall, we'd rake leaves together, making huge piles that David would jump into. Those simple moments meant everything.

Years later, I found an old polaroid tucked inside a drawer. In the background of a family picnic, there was a figure standing by the tree line, someone nobody remembered inviting. I asked my parents, but they just went silent, their faces turning pale as if they'd seen a ghost.

You know, I, I was thinking about my friend Henry the other day, and, and I said to him, sometimes a cup of tea is just, well, a cup of tea. But Henry, he, he always tries to find deeper meaning in everything. Sadly, he, he's not with us anymore.

The kitchen held yesterday's memories, coffee cups still ringed with dried brown circles, her mother's cardigan draped over the chair. Sarah traced her fingers along the wooden table's edge, remembering Sunday breakfasts that would never come again.

Close your eyes and listen deeply. The truth you seek isn't found in the noise of the world, but in the silence between your thoughts. Your heart knows the way, but your mind keeps searching elsewhere. Let go, and you will find everything.

You know, Sarah, every time I pass by that old bookstore where we first met, I can't help but pause and remember. Those countless afternoons we spent discussing poetry still echo in my mind, even though you're miles away now.