Postcard

My Grandma T had a flower garden behind her tiny house. Everytime we visited her, once a week I suppose, she took us on a tour of the garden in the postage-stamp size yard. Every bloom was a treasure to be admired, every change in the garden was a miracle.

Living in a tiny apartment in New York City, I don't have a backyard for a garden. I have to travel by foot, bus, or subway to spend time outdoors surrounded by flowers. But I make the trek, and I thank my grandma for giving me the habit of noticing what is happening around me, no matter how tiny and small. The habit has been a gift from her that lasts my lifetime.

I mailed this card today to someone in Texas who likes flower postcards.