Patio Garden

I finally got around to writing a prompt. We had done away with them in November and December because the holidays just get too hectic. But Leah has been putting them up again since Christmas and I made myself take the time today to write one. Mostly because the prompt was my idea. :) Leah already did hers and you can read that here.

He sat with his grayed head propped up with his hand, reading poetry, surrounded by friends. He couldn’t see me, with the sun using my window as a mirror to reflect his terraced apartment building. My face hidden by the reflection, I knew my presence would not intrude on his routine.

Every morning he came out, lovingly caring for the plants that were held by every flat surface of the tiny patio. Boxes he built himself rested heavily atop half of the short cement wall that protected the space. Pots of every shape and size lined up behind them. Squash, climbing beans, cabbage, limes—an assortment of life overflowed each one. Above the patio door, he had hung shelves that held spices, petunias, lettuce. Even the second-story window held a small testament to his green thumb.

I wondered as I watched him—a smile only touching his worn face as he trimmed and watered each day—what was his story? Was he a farm boy that lost his love long ago? An honored war veteran no longer needed by his country?

Each of my neighbors held a story. Some I thought I knew, some still remained a mystery. And that is why I watched. Trapped here, in my head, in my body, in my apartment I didn’t choose, they were my only connection to life outside these walls.