Det var en stille morgen i Oslo Botaniske Hage.

It was a quiet morning in Oslo Botaniske Hage.

Snøfnugg falt sakte fra himmelen, og dekket stiene med et tynt, hvitt teppe.

Snowflakes were gently falling from the sky, covering the paths with a thin white blanket.

Sindre sto ved inngangen til hagen, med en lys grå frakk rundt seg.

Sindre stood at the entrance to the garden, wrapped in a light gray coat.

Ved siden av ham var Ingrid, i en mørk kåpe, med en bestemt rynke i pannen.

Beside him was Ingrid, in a dark coat, with a determined crease in her forehead.

De to søsknene var der for en vanskelig oppgave.

The two siblings were there for a difficult task.

Deres far, Henrik, hadde nylig gått bort.

Their father, Henrik, had recently passed away.

Han hadde vært botaniker, og hagen var hans andre hjem.

He had been a botanist, and the garden was his second home.

Nå måtte de sortere gjennom hans eiendeler, samlet i en eske plassert ved benken nær deres fars favorittsted – et område med eviggrønne planter.

Now they had to sort through his belongings, collected in a box placed by the bench near their father's favorite spot—an area with evergreen plants.

"Ingrid," sa Sindre, stemmen lav.

"Ingrid," said Sindre, his voice low.

"Jeg vet ikke hvor jeg skal begynne."

"I don't know where to begin."

Ingrid pustet dypt inn.

Ingrid took a deep breath.

"Vi begynner med det viktigste," svarte hun, selv om hun også følte seg litt tapt.

"We start with the most important things," she replied, even though she too felt a little lost.

Hun visste hvor mye dette betydde for broren.

She knew how much this meant to her brother.

De åpnet esken.

They opened the box.

Første gjenstand var en gammel dagbok med falmet omslag.

The first item was an old journal with a faded cover.

Sindre bladde forsiktig gjennom den, minnene strømmet på.

Sindre leafed through it carefully, memories flooding back.

"Husker du når vi pleide å komme hit med pappa?"

"Do you remember when we used to come here with Dad?"

spurte han, øyne fulle av nostalgi.

he asked, eyes full of nostalgia.

Hun nikket stille.

She nodded silently.

De plukket frem flere ting – en liten plantebok, et par hagehansker.

They picked out more items—a small plant book, a pair of gardening gloves.

Ingen av dem snakket, men de delte et øyeblikk med stille forståelse.

Neither of them spoke, but they shared a moment of quiet understanding.

Men Sindre følte en klump i halsen.

But Sindre felt a lump in his throat.

"Jeg trenger litt luft.

"I need some air.

Jeg går en tur," sa han plutselig.

I'm going for a walk," he said suddenly.

Ingrid så på ham.

Ingrid looked at him.

Hun hadde lyst til å fortsette, men kjente at han trengte dette.

She wanted to continue, but sensed that he needed this.

"Jeg blir med deg," sa hun omsider.

"I'll join you," she said finally.

De gikk sammen gjennom hagen, langs de snødekte stiene.

They walked together through the garden, along the snow-covered paths.

Ingrid kjente på stillheten rundt dem, og merket at det var betryggende.

Ingrid felt the silence around them and noticed that it was comforting.

Sindre snudde seg rundt, snuste inn den kalde luften, og stoppet plutselig ved en busk som faren hadde elsket.

Sindre turned around, inhaled the cold air, and suddenly stopped by a bush their father had loved.

Der, halvt skjult blant greinene, var en konvolutt.

There, half-hidden among the branches, was an envelope.

"Ingrid, se her!"

"Ingrid, look here!"

utbrøt han.

he exclaimed.

Med skjelvende fingre fisket de ut brevet.

With trembling fingers, they fished out the letter.

De leste det sammen, brevet fra Henrik.

They read it together, the letter from Henrik.

Det var en hjertevarm hilsen, en påminnelse om å bære kjærligheten til naturen videre i livet.

It was a heartwarming message, a reminder to carry the love of nature forward in life.

Han hadde skrevet: "Hagen er vårt bånd.

He had written: "The garden is our bond.

Pass på at den alltid blomstrer, uansett årstid."

Make sure it always blooms, no matter the season."

Tårene trillet mens de leste.

Tears rolled down as they read.

Disse ordene ga dem begge en følelse av trøst.

These words gave both of them a sense of comfort.

Sindre, som hadde kjent seg tapt, fant nå en indre ro.

Sindre, who had felt lost, now found an inner peace.

Tilbake ved benken, med solen lavt på himmelen, så de på hverandre.

Back at the bench, with the sun low in the sky, they looked at each other.

"Vi skal fortsette å komme hit," sa Ingrid bestemt.

"We will keep coming here," said Ingrid firmly.

Sindre smilte for første gang den dagen.

Sindre smiled for the first time that day.

"Ja, vi gjør det."

"Yes, we will."

Og i den tause enigheten, blant det vinterkledde landskapet, fant de fred.

And in that silent agreement, among the winter-clad landscape, they found peace.

Henrik var borte, men hans arv levde videre i dem, i kjærligheten til den botaniske hagen.

Henrik was gone, but his legacy lived on in them, in the love for the botanical garden.

Sammen, i minnenes ånd, bestemte de seg for å plante en ny busk til ære for ham, og la hagen fortsette å blomstre.

Together, in the spirit of memories, they decided to plant a new bush in his honor, letting the garden continue to bloom.