An Undying Love ... just an old love story.
You know those couples who say they can’t live without each other? Sometimes they mean it. Undying Love The Coleus under Bob and Helen’s front porch window look a little scraggly, nothing but tall leggy stems bending in their bed of dry cracked earth. The gardener would never let them go like that if Bob hadn’t been so sick. If Bob had been up and around, standing tall the way he used to, those plants would be standing tall too, their leaves firm and perky, the ground blanketed with a soft, moist layer of mulch. Well tended, that was the best way to describe Bob’s garden, and come to think of it, Bob too. I try to remember if I saw the gardener this past Wednesday, his usual day to mow and blow. Who will notice if Bob’s plants die now? Not Bob who is sick in bed. Not Helen who uses a walker and rarely ventures outside. Bob told me once that Helen wouldn’t allow him to get her a wheelchair. She couldn’t stand the idea of looking like an invalid. That sounds like Helen, the kind of w