Young Love


Rain fell, slipping off leaves and pedals as the boy ran through the garden. He gripped a small bright orange handled pair of garden sheers.
Clutching shears to his side, Ryan moved between flower beds, searching. Nimble fingers raced through plants weighed down by droplets.
“I don’t suppose we should stop him, Florence?” Gerhard asked as he pulled the curtain back from their front window. Lines of age ran round his eyes as he smiled at the youthful energy.
His wife sat in her rocking chair, moving back and forth as knitting needles clicked together. She to smiled, glancing up and out into their front gardens. The boy had been there for quiet some time. Ryan’s jacket had soaked through and now rivulets of rain were running down his face.
Years melted from her face as Florence spoke to her husband of 60 years, “You know as well as I do, Gerhard, that there is no stopping love, or one who has found himself in its midst.”
“You’re right about that, love.” Gerhard chuckled. Rain tapped against the window. Looking up at the gray afternoon sky he thought aloud, “He’s going to catch something being out there this long.”
Florence smiled into her knitting project, “It will be young Addison May’s heart. You know the one? Down the street, remember?”
Gerhard’s eyes looked out into the storm for a moment. Then nodding said, “That’s right. They’re always the two Mrs. Jensen finds on her porch swing right? Aren’t they a little to young for this?”
“You old goat,” Florence laughed, throwing a wound ball of yard at her husband.
Gerhard half dodged the flying yarn, with a laugh.
Florence waved a hand, “Let him be. Come over here and keep my feet warm.”
Gerhard looked out the window again, feeling a stirring of past memories in his chest.  By then the boy held a small bouquet in the rain. Pinks, blues, and splashes of yellow peaked between greenery.
“He’s doing well. But he needs some more lilac in there.”
Florence shot him a sideways glance, as Gerhard walked back to his seat next to her, “He’ll learn soon enough. Don’t forget my yard.”
With a groan Gerhard bent over and grabbed the green skein. He  took his accustom seat next to Florence, just within arm’s reach.
“You know,” he smiled at his wife, “It’s a good think you’ve kept me around this long.”
Florence’s needles paused, “Yeah? Why’s that?”
Gerhard leaned over  and kissed her on the check, then nodded, “You’d lose all your yarn.”
Both chuckled as they  watched on in silence as young love grew in their garden.




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