The hibiscus in the back yard was in full bloom. Kind of a orange and red color. Lush green leaves. He watered it every day in the summer time. Watched it grow. It was his favorite. Loved it more than the orchids he had. Loved it more than the green ivy growing on the fence.
Sweat would pour out of him as he did yard work. Mowing the grass, planting flowers his wife had bought at the market. Piling stones for a retaining wall. A rusted wheel barrow by his side. A mud caked shovel at his feet. A can of Miller High Life in his hand. He would stand on the patio surveying his work. It was the only thing he’d ever accomplished.
He and his wife would sit in the garden and drink wine in the evening time. Sometimes they’d talk. Other times in silence. Just smiling as the sun went down. Waiting for the seasons to change. Hoping that summer would last a little longer. Wanting life to last a little longer.
And fall came. They would sit amongst death. The hibiscus gone. Just a brown stem.
The two of them sitting quietly. Not telling the other their thoughts. Thoughts of leaving. Wanting something more than just summer. The green was now gone.