The wait

My one remaining grandfather is in hospital and not expected to live much longer.

I am at home with a sick baby, who is taking all my focus – last time he was this sick, he ended up in intensive care by the end of the night, and although he’s been given the all clear and there’s no reason to think that will happen again, I fret.

And think. And remember.

My grandfather was a big gardener. I learned the magic of growing vegetables watching him and inspecting his garden. He hasn’t been able to garden for many years now.

Soon, maybe. But maybe not. And wait, and wait, and wait.

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