A missed bus gave us an unexpected morning together, a field of dahlias, and one magnificent flower already occupied by a bee. After twenty-one years of marriage, perhaps love is partly this: thousands of ordinary acts, and knowing what to do with the time life unexpectedly gives back.
We bring flowers to one another knowing they will fade, and we plant gardens that may outlast us. Both gestures carry something of the same wish: that there should be beauty in someone’s days, that something we have tended might go on giving pleasure beyond the time we have with it.
