260422

 

When we bought this house and moved in twenty‑three years ago, what I loved most was a pair of azaleas that began blooming almost as soon as we arrived. One was a deep, blood‑red color, the other a bright pink, and together they lit up our front entrance like our own Yaqin and Boaz.

And then—truly, just like that—it happened. The utility company said they needed to install a meter right where the azaleas were, so they dug one of them out by the roots and replanted it beside the other. But I’m convinced they tricked us. The one they replanted grew weaker and weaker until it died.

So now the remaining azalea stands alone, guarding our front gate. Around this time each year, its blossoms begin to open, and before long, it reveals its full, radiant beauty.