A Stranger Left an Envelope Beside My Bed on My Sixty-Second Birthday—Then I Found His Photograph with My Son

“How are you doing, Mom?” she asked quietly.

I looked at the four plants along the fence.

There would be months when they looked like nothing was happening.

The clerk had said that didn’t mean the roots had stopped working.

“I am fine, Brenda,” I said.

She didn’t question it.

She handed me the watering can.

I carried it to the first rose and began.