It's the first day of March and I woke up at my leisure. I love having Mondays off; It's nice to be by myself sometimes. I made myself some coffee and went out on the porch (my favorite porch) for my morning cigarette. The sun was streaming into my eyes but it felt good. The birds were carrying on as if to let everyone know it's okay to come outside, to show yourself. I heard footsteps around the corner and shortly thereafter saw a kind looking woman turning it. She immediately said hello. I love when people say hello. It's a simple gesture that sometimes I think time has forgotten. She mentioned that this was her mother's house and that her mother passed this morning. She was glad I was on the porch having a cigarette because that's what her mother used to do. It's insane to have your smoking habit met with anything but disgust nowadays. I told the woman about the peaceful, happy feeling I got when I first set foot into the house and how it made me want to live here. I told! her about our plans for a garden. She told me that her mother was also a gardener. She told me about how early this morning she found a tired rose in the street and placed it on her mother's Dusty Miller in the front bed. She didn't think we'd mind, let alone notice. I told her about how that rose was from my graduation a few nights ago and about how by the time I realized it was still in the backseat of the car I decided it wasn't worth trying to save and threw it on the ground. Katie had to run; her ...
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