The first poem in my book, April 2020, is “To the Old Man Gardening During the Pandemic”. The poem chronicles my encounter with an older gentleman as he was gardening. I was on a walk, which I did a lot during the lockdown. This man’s house has a big backyard with a variety of flora. I had seen him out in his garden over the years. Of course, the poem (and book) are centered on life during the pandemic.
Flash forward to now. Even with the craziness of the summer, I have been walking on a regular basis. I had noticed that I had not seen the gentleman out in his garden, even though it still looked good. Yesterday I found out why.
He’s gone.
I do not know what happened to him. For once I was too shy to ask the person out front of the house closing up a moving trailer. The backyard had one of those little kid cars (the blue one with a red hood), a hot tube, and other toys that meant that a young family had moved into the house.
He was gone.
I stood at the yield sign at the T-junction where most of his flowers are trying not to cry. This summer has been filled with drastic moments that changed my life. Some joyful and exciting (my oldest son starting his career). Others have cracked my spirit. And standing next to the flowers this gentleman spent so much time caring for pushed my heart to the edge.
I wondered what the new family would do with the backyard. I envied the children, they will love the space (the house sits on two lots). But what will they do with the trellis? Will they keep the roses? His home and garden was becoming a home for a new family.
The old man gardening during the pandemic is gone. But I remember him. And his garden.
It is all Connected 