I am pretty swamped here today at work, but I have to pause for this one:
I stopped by Grandma's on an abbreviated lunchbreak today (read: roughly 18 minutes), since her house is less than two blocks from my office. As I left the house, I noticed something fresh and green poking out of the ground in the barren flowerbed in her backyard.
"I wonder if any of the bulbs we planted last fall survived the squirrels..." I said to her.
"I've been wondering the same thing."
"Lemme take a look."
With Grandma standing at the back door, shielding her cancer-ridden body from the chilly, sunny air, I padded across the grass for a peek.
Daffodil and tulip bulbs were pushing their way through the earth every four or five inches throughought the garden. I had planted more than 90 bulbs with her last fall. It looked as if most of them made it through the winter--and the squirrels.
I turned with a great big smile on my face and skipped toward the back door, like a little kid. Grandma opened it.
"Do you see them?" she asked.
"I see tons!"
"Oh, that's great. That's so great."
We planted those bulbs just weeks after being told Grandma only had six months left. Now, six months later, here we were. Watching them do the only thing they know how--reach for Spring. What a gift! What a gift to stand there with her and see that!
Tomorrow is my 35th birthday.
I don't need any presents.