Source: Edible Yards
It was just what they were looking for- the neighborhood close to the train station without being too urban. Two bedrooms, two and a half baths, and sunlight streaming into the kitchen through the sliding glass doors. He knew it by the time he’d finished the tour of the second floor: this was the one.
“Chelsea?” he called, bounding down the stairs with excitement. He wanted to talk it over with her, make sure they were on the same page. Then they could put on their games faces and talk shop with the realtor.
“Chels?” he called again as he rounded the corner of the staircase. The living room was empty save for the hideous furniture the current occupants had crowded it with. He was already making mental notes of how to better utilize the space. And the kitchen- ick. Who in their right mind would squeeze an island into a kitchen this size?
He glanced out the sliding doors as he turned to continue his search and that’s when he spotted her- standing out on the tiny patio, her arms folded around herself. He could tell immediately she was crying. He never knew what to do when she cried. It scared the hell out of him, every time, and the fear caused him to hesitate. But then he took a breath, and forced himself to slide open the door.
He hugged her from behind and gave her a kiss on her wet cheek. He tried the practical approach.
“I know it’s small but that doesn’t mean we can’t do a lot with it. I see it all the time on those DIY shows,” he said, looking around the small space and trying to come up with possibilities.
“I mean, like right here,” he said, walking over the patch of grass and referencing spaces with waves of his hands. “It looks like they’ve already got it outlined for a garden or something- we could grow vegetables or flowers.”
He cautioned a glance at her and saw her smiling as she looked down and it spur red him on. “And- hey! Over here we could put like a little fountain and it could be like a little zen garden or something- we could learn to meditate!”
He came back to her, put an around her and pulled her in. “There’s a lot of life back here, you know? Quality, not quantity.”
“No,” she said, wiping her face and laughing, “No, I know. That’s not why I’m crying.”
“Why are you crying, Chels?” he asked, fearing her response.
“It’s just,” she laughed again, embarrassed with herself, “I’ve never had a yard before.”
And she smiled at him, her eyes lit up with it. He grinned back at her and grabbed her for a tight hug. They were home.