He stood as tall as my hip with eyes like a river at night.
I squatted down, extended my hand, and introduced myself.
We found out we've got the same name so smiled for a moment.
I asked him how old he was, guessing 4, and he bluntly stated 13.
You look young for 13. Where do you go to school?
I can't remember the name of that place, but I just graduated.
He said this with such pride and sincerity, I had to believe him. Congratulations.
What are you doing? he asked. Well, I'm watering the tomatoes.
Why? So they can grow, and we can eat them. I would like to help,
he said with the seriousness of someone offering assistance in the wake of tragedy.
Of course, I told him, and we finished with the tomatoes, then went to the strawberries
which, with wide eyes, he told me he enjoys. We then discussed the benefits of fruit.
When we finished he went home. The next day I was getting ready to leave.
As I walked through the terrible heat of my front yard, the graduate raced over.
He stopped directly in front of me and took both of my hands in his own.
It was as if he had travelled a great distance to meet a long forgotten friend.
He turned the rivers of his eyes to mine and paused an earnest moment
before saying, We must water the flowers.
