My Father’s Front Garden

My father has a tiny garden that he loves so much. I grew up watching him bond with it. I touched its flowers, smelled its roses, and enjoyed dad’s company in that tiny space. He redecorates it every year. It gives him great satisfaction to dig its soil, plant the seeds, and wait endlessly for them to blossom. Every flower in my dad’s garden has a story that we all know since my dad doesn’t spare us the details. I can’t see it now, but I can feel my dad’s excitement and enthusiasm whenever its time to redecorate it.

My mother put her favorite fountain in the middle of that tiny garden. The moving water falling from the top to the bottom makes a musical sound that attracts bees, birds, and butterflies. My sister and I planted seeds, smelled the daffodils, and danced with the butterflies in that tiny space. His garden is so special to my heart because it reminds me of the wonderful memories we had. It’s the ultimate manifestation of harmony, happiness, and family. I can’t interact with my father’s garden now the way I used to do, but whenever I’m on skype my dad takes the laptop to his lovely garden and narrates the story of each and every flower. His garden is just like him so telling, so wonderful, and so magical.