In the silence, I am in awe.
* * *
I walk the greenhouse with my friend Angie. She talks about the different flowers she has planted: bromeliads, Chinese hibiscus, chenille plants, lilies, and orchids. She tells me that these flowers are OK, but her favorite are the African violets. “They take more care, more time, and they are fragile,” she says as her prosthetic hand touches the leaves of a pink African violet she has called “Hope.” Hope. How perfect.

As the sun filters through the greenhouse, I help Angie check the labels on each of the African violet pots. These will soon be in a new home.

* * *
As I pull into the driveway, I am not certain what I will see. It’s been 13 months since I visited ... »
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