I tell her about the widow behind my house.

How she died three months after her husband passed.

The last time I saw her she handed me a basket of cucumbers

severed from her  garden.

Pressed on tip toes she lifted them over a shared fence line.

Her eyes that permanent crinkle old people get

from years of laughing at the same shared joke.

I told her I would return the basket

but she patted my hand

and waved me off.