It had been two years since she had lost Sophia. Two long years, but yet it still felt like yesterday. It was especially bad at night when at times she would find herself straining to hear the pitter-patter of her daughter's footsteps down the hall. The loneliness was starting to consume her and the panic attacks - although new, were beginning to occur more frequently.

She thought she was ready to get out more. She wanted to be ready, but it hadn't been as easy as she thought. The saying that time heals all wounds couldn't be true because she had given it time and the wound was still raw.

She had to force herself to get up each day and over time she had developed a routine. Get up, make the bed, drink coffee out on the porch while watching the sun rise, clean the house, eat lunch then dinner, and then try and sleep.

It might have been easier had she obtained a job, but she had yet to take that step. She didn't really have to work. When her late husband Ed had passed five years ago, his life insurance had paid out a hefty sum to which she had wisely invested. It seemed that Ed had finally been good for something even if his death had to occur as a result of it.

Carol sighed as she placed the Cherokee Rose next to the tombstone, her hand skirting across the smooth stone as if she were simply brushing away a lock of Sophia's auburn hair.

She busied herself cleaning up the wilting remnants of the last flower she had placed upon the grave. Even though the cemetery had its own maintenance crew, she still took it upon herself to keep the gravesite clean of any and all debri.

"My baby girl," she whispered.

The Cherokee Rose petals swayed in the gentle breeze and Carol felt a sense of peace. It had been a lovely choice and she really was grateful to the man at the greenhouse for helping her, even though she hadn't really shown it.

Maybe she would return there soon and apologize to him. Then while she was there she might pick out a few more of the roses, maybe even plant some at home next to the porch where the early morning sun could bathe them in light.

"What do you think, baby? Do you like the rose? It is rather unique," Carol admitted.

The breeze drifted through once more, ruffling her hair and Carol closed her eyes, enjoying the moment.

Planting some flowers would definitely give her something to do with her time. Plus she had been neglecting the outside of the house for quite some time so it was long overdo for some tender loving care.

She thought about waking in the morning and stepping onto the porch with her coffee, the scent of the Cherokee Roses surrounding her as she sat to watch the sunrise. Yes, they would do nicely.

It was decided. Tomorrow, she would make the trek back to the greenhouse and see about purchasing some more of the flowers. Carol brushed her hand over the stone once more.

"I love you, Sophia." Turning around, she headed towards her car, her heart not quite as heavy as in past visits. For once she had hope that maybe the future wasn't quite as bleak after all.

"She was pretty."

Daryl grunted in reply, ignoring his sister Tara as he busied himself rearranging the heavier plants so that they would get full benefit of the afternoon sun.

"It's been a long time since the accident."

"Don't," Daryl warned harshly and then exhaled as he saw Tara's expression fall. She was clearly hurt and she did a quick turn on her hiking boots to leave, but Daryl was faster. He grabbed her by the hand and squeezed once in apology. "Just not today, alright?"

It wasn't that he was still mourning his loss, but the memory had become fresh this morning as he had talked to the lady with the Cherokee Rose. He wasn't in as bad of shape as she had been. Her pain still seemed fresh whereas he was content most days. He had accepted it and moved on. It was easier that way.

If only he could convince himself of that.

"I was thinking of going out and grabbing some lunch. Want to come with?" Tara offered.

"At a restaurant?"

"It is where one usually gets food besides a grocery store," she mused.

Daryl shook his head. "Maybe next time. Got a lot of stuff to do." He really didn't but she didn't need to know that.

She rolled her eyes, but he saw the hint of sympathy within them. He turned away, not wanting to see.

"I swear, you and Dad work too much." Daryl glanced down at his hands and flexed them, working out the soreness in his joints. His skin was decorated with scratches and random scars, the product of a hard day's work. He grunted again when Tara leaned over to kiss his cheek and pat his shoulder affectionately. "Be back in a bit."

"Be careful," he cautioned.

"Always."

Daryl watched her walk off, her short brown ponytail swinging with each step. He knew he was hard on her most days. He tried not to be, but he simply couldn't help it. There was always that tiny flicker of fear that when someone he loved walked away from him that he might not ever see them again. It wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be, but it was still there all the same.

"Playin' in the dirt again, I see," a deep familiar voice mused.

"Better than playin' in shit." Daryl smirked.

Rick punched him playfully, yelping when Daryl pinched his side in retaliation. They spent a few moments trying to get the best of one another, but it was a losing battle. They were pretty equally adept at taking care of themselves and had been around each other long enough to know the other's tricks.

"What are you doing here? Miss me already?" Daryl taunted when they finally took a breather.

"You wish," Rick retorted. "Herschel called me. One of the sprinkler systems is screwing up again."

"Still can't figure out why he called a plumber." Daryl smiled.

"Because maybe he just likes me more, okay?" Rick laughed. "Add to that the fact that I only charge him parts and not the labor that someone else might charge."

"I don't know why he didn't just ask me to look at it," Daryl frowned.

Rick clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, don't sweat it. You know how he hates to ask you to do anymore than you already do. He worries."

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "I better go check and make sure he's not doing too much. Stubborn ass."

Rick chuckled good-naturedly and saluted Daryl as he walked down the aisle towards the back of the greenhouse. "See ya later, D."

"Later, Rich." Rick shook his head at the old nickname, but made no further comment.

Daryl took a deep breath and headed in the direction of Herschel's booming voice. On his way he passed by the Cherokee Roses and he was once again reminded of the lady from earlier. He hadn't originally thought much of her. She looked pretty normal, but then she had almost smiled there at the end and it had changed his mind. He wondered what she would look like if she actually did smile?

He quickly pushed the thought away and headed to help out his dad. He didn't have time for such things.