Glade

I should have known that something bad had happened when I noticed the weeds growing in his garden. His once impeccably clean dirt now had several obnoxious plants sprouting.

 

Weeds never stop to let people live out the end of their love story.

 

A couple afternoons later I was sitting on the drive way with June, chalk in our hands. My neighbor came home and walked over and sat down by us and asked June if he could write his name.

 

GLADE.

 

He is a simple man. He grew up on the street we live on. Him and his wife married young. Once he told us that he had to chase her away from all those other boys. He doesn’t always talk so candidly.

 

But his kind soul is always being shown. Every summer and fall he brings us over food from his massive garden. Squash, beans, cantaloupe, corn, apples, tomatoes. He hardly knew us when he first started to share his harvest. But we soon learned about him that he spends all this time taking care of his old house, yard, and, his wife.

 

I see him leave his house, wearing some plaid shirt, with his wife at the same time everyday. One day I found out where they were going. He takes her to a gym to walk on the treadmill every day ever since she had her heart attack.

We watch a lot of romantic movies and read books about it, but it’s seeing that old white car drive down the road to the gym every day that becomes one of the best love stories I’ve ever seen.

It’s the way he takes his wife’s hand or rubs her leg when she keeps forgetting who we are, even when we told her two minutes ago.

 

It was in his voice as he told me what happened the other day.

 

I just stared down at his name in chalk as he told me. I knew his wife wasn’t in the best health, but why did there have to be a car accident?

 

He spoke like he always does, the same voice he would use to talk about pumpkins, but I could hear past that.

 

Sadness.  

The deepest kind. 

The kind that comes from impending loneness.

 

The car had rolled. She had internal bleeding in her skull. She is sleeping a lot and either she will heal… or not. There is not much else to do.

 

And meanwhile his perfect lawn grows taller, his trimmed bushes get uneven.
And the weeds grow.