bench, she asked why they were arranged that way.
I explained that Grandma and Grandpa had sat there every anniversary.
Another week, she asked about the bee balm. I told her Grandma planted it after a difficult summer because she wanted something cheerful that refused to disappear.
Neighbors shared stories too: roses that survived a storm, herbs Grandma used for soup, and lilies planted after my graduation.
Kelsey stopped joking.
She no longer saw landscaping.
She saw history.
One afternoon, she stood beneath the wedding arch.
“I thought it looked
