Written in July, 2011:
“Do you like my pond?”
“Yea. It’s a good one. You dug it yourself didn’t you?” I asked him, squatting down near the edge.
“I did. Do you like my rock?” He asked, pointing to a stone near the water. On the front was carved the quote “Old gardeners never die, they just spade away.” It’s funny because his last name is Spade. It’s not funny because I never want to lose him. His face became furrowed, as you could see him processing the quote on the level that made me quiet for so long.
I gave a half smile. “It’s very clever.” I reassured him as I settled down in the chair he had carried out for me.
We sat staring for a minute as squirrels ran by and the water ran through the pond.
“I love you.” I told him softly and put my hand on his arm.
He laughed his nervous laugh and gave me a sideways glance. “I love you too.” He said, and patted my hand.