A cold and strong wind played wildly with her hair and stroke her face as
if to comfort her.
But Rose Dawson couldn't care less.
It had been two months now and still she blocked the world out.
She had pushed reality to arm's length and she didn't let it come any closer.
For two months she had done nothing but mourning without tears, without giving in to her grief.
But now staring at the Statue of Liberty, tears flowed freely, uncontrollably.
All that time, Rose had been a sculpture of ice, now finally that ice started to melt.
The silent pier had brought many memories back to surface.
Memories she had kept away from her for so long, memories she had buried in the darkest corner of her heart.
She wanted to run away from this place but her feet wouldn't move.
They felt as grown into the wooden ground beneath her.
The sun was slowly setting in the extensive ocean, leaving an orange, pink and purple glimmer in the velvet sky.
The image was breathtaking and Rose looked at it amazed.
Tears were pricking her eyes but she couldn't look away, it was as if she was forced to stare at that magnificent sunset.
High above her, in the sky, sea - gulls danced in the clouds and for the first times in those two months Rose felt at ease and the pain seemed to be slipping from her attention.
The pier was abandoned and within eyesight there was no living soul.
And yet Rose didn't feel alone, she felt sheltered and safe in a way she had never felt before.
Although the wind was freezing and could cut someone's flesh, Rose felt warm inside, as if her fire was heating up again.
For two months that fire had been laid low, but it had never flared out.
Her tears were dried and she felt comforted.
The sun was now down and a beautiful full moon lit the night.
Thousands of stars hang in the night sky and looked like ingenious cut diamonds.
The night belonged to her, it was then they met and shared a part of their lives with each other.
Night was like a gift to Rose, only then she was real, only then she truly lived.
A shooting star left a golden streak in the dark air.
Instinctively Rose made a wish: Make the pain go away, please.
Suddenly taken by a deep exhaustion, Rose made her way home through the black streets of New York City.
After a firm walk, she arrived home: a huge apartment building in the middle of the city.
When she landed in New York she found an apartment far more suiting than a room in an overcrowded boarding house.
She was proven right; she enjoyed the fact that she had her own place to come home to.
It wasn't as luxurious as she was used to but she had started a new life, an independent life, as a new person: Rose Dawson. And she was proud of what she had achieved so far.
Not too long after arriving here, she found a job as a waitress in a respectable tea - house where she had found a friend for life: John Calvert.
He was a noble and generous man with a huge sense of humor.
Especially that last quality of him had attracted Rose to him; he was the only one who had been able to make her laugh.
John had been there for her when she needed a shoulder to lean on, he was there when she wanted to talk to someone, they shared that same passion and fire.
It was that fire that made them such good friends.
The apartment building looked threatening in the frigid night air.
There was no light in this alley and at night it was home to ghosts and evil spirits if Rose should believe the children who lived here.
They were all very dear to Rose, in particularly Suzie, the seven year old daughter of Mrs. Armstrong who lived in the apartment above Rose's.
At night she could hear Suzie and her older brother Christopher, Chris for short, fighting in their bedroom they had to share to the dislike of both of them.
It made her laugh inside as Mrs. Armstrong tried to calm them down before her husband would wake up.
In fact, Rose got along with everyone of the building, even Mrs. Russell who always gossiped about half of the city.
Mrs. Russell was an elderly lady whose husband had died about two years ago.
She was as friendly as can be but just very curious and unable to stay out of someone else's problems but always with the best intentions.
In some way Mrs. Russell reminded Rose of her grandmother, her father's mother.
Always sticking her nose in things that had no concern to her but she was always there with good advice.
She was so completely different for her other grandmother who was just as stiff and emotionless has her own mother.
Rose had pledged herself never to become that way and that was an intention that she would keep always.
Another promise she would keep for life....
But Rose Dawson couldn't care less.
It had been two months now and still she blocked the world out.
She had pushed reality to arm's length and she didn't let it come any closer.
For two months she had done nothing but mourning without tears, without giving in to her grief.
But now staring at the Statue of Liberty, tears flowed freely, uncontrollably.
All that time, Rose had been a sculpture of ice, now finally that ice started to melt.
The silent pier had brought many memories back to surface.
Memories she had kept away from her for so long, memories she had buried in the darkest corner of her heart.
She wanted to run away from this place but her feet wouldn't move.
They felt as grown into the wooden ground beneath her.
The sun was slowly setting in the extensive ocean, leaving an orange, pink and purple glimmer in the velvet sky.
The image was breathtaking and Rose looked at it amazed.
Tears were pricking her eyes but she couldn't look away, it was as if she was forced to stare at that magnificent sunset.
High above her, in the sky, sea - gulls danced in the clouds and for the first times in those two months Rose felt at ease and the pain seemed to be slipping from her attention.
The pier was abandoned and within eyesight there was no living soul.
And yet Rose didn't feel alone, she felt sheltered and safe in a way she had never felt before.
Although the wind was freezing and could cut someone's flesh, Rose felt warm inside, as if her fire was heating up again.
For two months that fire had been laid low, but it had never flared out.
Her tears were dried and she felt comforted.
The sun was now down and a beautiful full moon lit the night.
Thousands of stars hang in the night sky and looked like ingenious cut diamonds.
The night belonged to her, it was then they met and shared a part of their lives with each other.
Night was like a gift to Rose, only then she was real, only then she truly lived.
A shooting star left a golden streak in the dark air.
Instinctively Rose made a wish: Make the pain go away, please.
Suddenly taken by a deep exhaustion, Rose made her way home through the black streets of New York City.
After a firm walk, she arrived home: a huge apartment building in the middle of the city.
When she landed in New York she found an apartment far more suiting than a room in an overcrowded boarding house.
She was proven right; she enjoyed the fact that she had her own place to come home to.
It wasn't as luxurious as she was used to but she had started a new life, an independent life, as a new person: Rose Dawson. And she was proud of what she had achieved so far.
Not too long after arriving here, she found a job as a waitress in a respectable tea - house where she had found a friend for life: John Calvert.
He was a noble and generous man with a huge sense of humor.
Especially that last quality of him had attracted Rose to him; he was the only one who had been able to make her laugh.
John had been there for her when she needed a shoulder to lean on, he was there when she wanted to talk to someone, they shared that same passion and fire.
It was that fire that made them such good friends.
The apartment building looked threatening in the frigid night air.
There was no light in this alley and at night it was home to ghosts and evil spirits if Rose should believe the children who lived here.
They were all very dear to Rose, in particularly Suzie, the seven year old daughter of Mrs. Armstrong who lived in the apartment above Rose's.
At night she could hear Suzie and her older brother Christopher, Chris for short, fighting in their bedroom they had to share to the dislike of both of them.
It made her laugh inside as Mrs. Armstrong tried to calm them down before her husband would wake up.
In fact, Rose got along with everyone of the building, even Mrs. Russell who always gossiped about half of the city.
Mrs. Russell was an elderly lady whose husband had died about two years ago.
She was as friendly as can be but just very curious and unable to stay out of someone else's problems but always with the best intentions.
In some way Mrs. Russell reminded Rose of her grandmother, her father's mother.
Always sticking her nose in things that had no concern to her but she was always there with good advice.
She was so completely different for her other grandmother who was just as stiff and emotionless has her own mother.
Rose had pledged herself never to become that way and that was an intention that she would keep always.
Another promise she would keep for life....