Sydney

The botanical garden is a thirty minute drive from the city and even longer from the castle. Juxtaposed against a sea of silver trees, the glass domed building sticks out as a bright pop of color against ribbons of pure white snow.

I pull my truck to a stop, checking my watch.

Someone opens the front door to the building and steps out, bundled against the biting sub-zero temperature in a pale purple sweater and gray leggings.

Mom’s wine-red hair is pulled in a bun piled on the top of her head. She waves at me, motioning for me to hurry the hell up.

“You said you’d be here...