Sunday night, he was sitting on the bench, in the backyard of the mansion, watching you running around happily. As the moon continued showing its shine, you were running under it, looking at flowers, trees in there. You loved nature, just like your mother. He kept watching you from a bench, realizing that you were slowly had same features like your mother, his dead wife. It was sad for him that his wife had passed away years ago, but he should focused on the present and forget about the past.