My Aunt Rosemary

"What would you call the bakery if you opened it?"
"Rosemarys."
"Why would you name it that?  Why not call it Willows?"
"Rosemary was my best friend."

    My aunt was a beautiful woman.  Long, dark green hair, vibrant blue eyes, and skin as smooth as porcelain.  She apparently looked a lot like my mother, who also had the trademark blue eyes.  I never knew my mother, she died as she was giving birth to me.  I know I would love my mother though, but Rosemary was the woman who raised me.  She loved me like a mother would, and she was my best friend.  From my birth, she cared for me, raised me, and taught me much of what I know now.

    She taught me how to be kind and caring, how to love everybody no matter how bad or corrupt.  

    "Love is the most important thing."  She would always say that to me, through the short ten years I knew her for.  Every night, every day, she would tell me that.  Love can change the worst of hearts, it can blossom into something stunning and beautiful.

    The day she was taken from me, was the hardest moment of my life.  Imagine laying in your bed, comfortable and safe, not a care in the world.  You would have just given your guardian a good night kiss, before snuggling under the blankets.  Tomorrow would be a busy day, spent picking apples from the tall, aging trees, with your best friend.  As you sleep, two intruders break into your home, your sanctuary.  The person you loved the most, would then be brutally stabbed, crimson blood staining the hardwood floor.  The last thing you would hear from your loved one, was their terrified screams.  You are only ten years old.

    By the time her screams woke me from my dreams, the intruders were going through the house, stealing anything of value.  I had thought it was simply a nightmare, but I could hear them rummaging through the living room.  I was scared, so I hid in my closet, covering my ears with my small hands, hoping that my aunt could help.  I didn't know she had been murdered, until the closet door swung open, and two bloody hands pulled me out of the closet.

    I screamed, I screamed bloody murder, but the more I screamed, the angrier the man got.  I felt an incredibly sharp pain in my stomach, and my vision was blinded by tears.  The pain returned even greater, and I was dropped in a pool of my own blood, un-moving.  They must have heard our neighbors, because they quickly left.  I was still alive, just barely, by the time I was found.

    That was the night I lost my best friend.

    Now though, I've grown up.  I still remember my aunt, every single day.  Once I had enough money saved, I opened a bakery.  I named it after my best friend, the woman who raised and loved me, my aunt Rosemary.  I can only hope she's proud of me, all I've ever wanted was to make her happy.  My memories have faded around the corners, but I will never forget my beautiful aunt.  She was my best friend, and I pray that she knew how much she meant to me.