The things we say in silence.

“I’m not capable of love by halves. He taught me that.” — Britney King, Water Under the Bridge

One morning, not long after the sun came up, I stopped to watch an old man digging in the dirt. It was a simple moment, really, the kind I would’ve missed had I been rushing.

I remember that it was drizzling out, and chilly for this time of year, and still, there he was tending to his flowerbeds—creating something beautiful for himself, and the rest of us.

The way he worked was something, it was as though he was pouring all the stories of his life into that plot of earth. 

As I stood there watching it brought tears to my eyes, and I recall thinking to myself, ‘dear god you’re weird.’

But I went on my way and I realized it’s ok to have big feelings about little things. 

A few days later, as I was snapping the photo below, the man’s neighbor, she likes to talk, told me he is a recent widower when I mentioned how lucky she is to have a neighbor who cares so much about his lawn. She nodded, and said yes, thankfully his wife had always tended the flowerbeds.

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