Old Jane

It was pleasant, strolling through the park. Ambling between the huge old oak trees, watching as they danced in slow motion to the rhythms of the late afternoon breeze. Down the freshly mown grassy slope towards the sparkling stream, promising adventure and thrills.
For eighteen month old Jane, being here with her older brother and father reminded her of Orleans and Jean Claude.
She flinched slightly as her father called out to "be careful".
His voice reverberating through the ages.
She knew this was just part of being the oldest person in their group.

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