I watched a man tend to his garden at the end of a day. There were silent moments when he just watched the plants. He waited for the sun to set and then he left. I used to watch my grand mother tend to the garden in the morning. Watching him from the window, I remembered those moments and the times when people told me that if I wanted something to grow, I must take them seriously, give them time, which means give them pieces of my finite life.