twenty-six, although age had changed the way he moved. There was less wasted motion now. Every step seemed deliberate, as though he had learned exactly how much energy each task required and refused to spend more than necessary.
He worked almost the entire day.
By six that evening, he finally climbed the porch steps and stood beside me.
Together, we looked at what he had created.
The garden appeared almost effortless from the street.
Red and yellow flowers curved naturally through one another, but from where I stood slightly above
