Quietly and carefully, Elina opened the door and softly they both crossed the room and looked down at the sleeping form of their mother. Briony had chosen to be in her twenties. Her youthful face was framed with translucent curls. She looked both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It felt as though they stood and stared at an older sister rather than their mother. It was a strange feeling. Elina had never known her mother look this young and she felt strangely alienated from her.
Gently lifting her mother’s hand from the bed, she felt its warmth and then the connection. Bending slowly she placed a gentle kiss on each cheek and then rubbed noses softly - when she was younger it had been one of their bedtime rituals. She then whispered softly into her mother’s ear.
‘It’s Elina, mother, I love you. I am fine and have made friends with Primrose. There is nothing to forgive. Resurgam.’ She gently replaced her mother’s hand onto the duvet, stepped back and allowed Primrose to greet her real mother for the first time.
‘She has the same hair style that I had before Violette cut it,’ Primrose said, touching her own hair and her mother’s. Elina saw a smirk lift the corners of Primrose’s mouth; she recognised the sign; Primrose was up to something.
‘When I was a kid,’ Primrose said, ‘Briony would let me do her hair. If I am ever so gentle…’ Primrose leant forward and with a gentleness that she had not used for years, quickly and expertly created a single pigtail to hang over her mother’s left ear. They smiled softly as they looked down on their mother.
‘Do you think that’s alright, Lina?’ Primrose asked, suddenly feeling guilty, ‘I don’t want her to think I’m making fun of her. It’s just something we used to enjoy doing; it would make us both laugh so much.’
‘It’s perfect, Primrose,’ Elina remarked, ‘It’s just what she needs. It will spark a good memory, a sign that you remember the good times and that you care.’
Primrose bent over and placed a single kiss in the centre of her mother’s forehead, ‘Primrose says sorry, it has taken me awhile, but I sort of understand now. I love you.’
Gently she traced her index finger down her mother’s cheek and then placed it to her own lips, before wiping a tear from her eye.
‘Time to go,’ Primrose said softly, reaching for her sister’s hand, ‘What did that Latin thing mean?’
‘Resurgam - it means rise again; it was a word that she insisted father put on her coffin.’
As they gently opened the door, they heard their mother sigh in her sleep, ‘I love you both too.’