Stop, to see
a story about community
Stepping outside in her pink fuzzy robe, she instinctively grasps the fronts closed at the neck while reaching to collect the morning paper, shaking it to flick off the morning dew collected on the plastic wrapper. She curses to herself about the dog crap at the edge of her yard some selfish neighbor didn’t bother cleaning and ignores the soft whine of her shi-poo, begging for a walk. She decides instead to go back to the comforting rush of the morning news.
Glancing at his watch out of habit even though he’s nowhere near close to his step goal today, he sighs and cranks up the hip-hop playlist in his AirPods to convince his brain to keep jogging even though his aching knees think that’s a bad idea. He passes a neighbor in a pink robe, scowling.
What’s her problem? Two more miles …
The loud POP! and slow pshhhh of her front tire causes her to cut the ride short and pull her bike over to the side of the street. She lays it on its side to inspect the damage. The culprit is a small nail. The tire’s lost too much air to ride home. Luckily, she’s only a few blocks away.
A man jogs by, too busy messing with his watch and muttering to himself to notice her. She relaxes for a moment, propping her arms behind her in the dewy grass and closes her eyes.
She doesn’t hear him approach. Her eyes slingshot open when he exclaims, “Beautiful! Aren’t they?” She’s unsure if he expects an answer.
She turns around. Behind her is a dense wall of pink and purple morning glories growing against an abandoned, overgrown lot, flashing their cheerful blossoms at the sun, winking through patchy clouds.
Turning back to the old man, she notices his eyes have a cloudy look to them and realizes he’s staring off into a distance that only he can see.
“They sure are. But how do you…?” she began.
“My wife, Helen, planted these morning glories when we moved here in ’67. I’ve watched them grow in our yard and spill out into this lot over the years. I’ve thought about cutting them back, but figured others wouldn’t mind seeing a little extra beauty while they walk the neighborhood.”
“That was so thoughtful of you both! But, how…?” she trailed off.
The caverns in the corners of his eyes deepen as he grins.
“I lost my vision last year from diabetes. But, you know what? Now, I see more than ever. Look over there… See those white ones in the corner?”
She nods and then responds after remembering he can’t see her. “Yes. But they’re not open now like the others.”
“Those are moonflowers. They’ll open up just like the morning glories, except when the sun goes down and the moon takes over. Come back around sunset and you’ll see.”
A small, scrappy dog runs by and yaps at them before doing his business on the freshly manicured lawn across the street. A woman in a pink robe appears and tosses a newspaper at it.
The girl picks up her bike. “I should head home. I’ll come back tonight to see them!” she said, the busted tire all but forgot.
He was leaning on his cane, still grinning.
“Helen would love that.”
