The storm came in September.
The sky turned green. The wind picked up. The radio warned of a hurricane.
Eleanor was at home, sewing. Henry was still on his route.
She looked out the window. The trees were bending. The trash cans were rolling.
She ran to the roof.
The tomato plants were tall. Heavy with fruit. The stakes were bending.
She tied them as best she could. The wind pulled at her hair. The rain started.
"Eleanor!"
Henry was on the roof. His uniform was soaked.
"What are you doing here?" she shouted.
"Saving the garden!"
They worked together. Tying. Staking. Moving buckets against the wall.
The rain came harder. The wind was loud.
"We need to go inside!" Henry shouted.
"The plants!"
"They'll survive!"
He pulled her toward the door. She resisted. He was stronger.
They went inside. The door slammed behind them.
The apartment was dark. The power was out.
They stood in the hallway, dripping water on the floor.
"The garden," she said.
"We did what we could."
She looked at him. His face was wet. His eyes were tired.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For coming for me."
He took her hand. "I'll always come for you."
---
The storm passed in the night.
The next morning, Eleanor climbed to the roof.
The garden was destroyed. The tomato plants were broken. The buckets were overturned. The soil was scattered.
She knelt in the mud.
Henry came up behind her. "We'll plant again."
"The season is over."
"Next spring."
She looked at the water tank. The painted eye was still there. Faded. But there.
"Henry."
"Yeah."
"Paint the eye again. Before it disappears."
He pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. The same chalk. Smaller now.
He climbed the tank. He traced the eye. The circle. The pupil. The dot.
It wasn't perfect. But it was there.
"The garden will grow back," he said.
"How do you know?"
"Because we'll plant it again."
---
They spent the day cleaning the roof.
Sweeping soil. Stacking buckets. Saving the seeds that had survived.
The neighbors came out. Mr. Chen helped. Mrs. Gable watched from her window.
The Kims had already moved. Their apartment was empty.
"The building is still standing," Mr. Chen said.
"The building is strong," Henry said.
"The people are strong," Eleanor said.
They worked until the sun set.
---
That night, Eleanor wrote a letter to her mother.
Dear Mama,
The hurricane came. The garden is gone. But Henry and I are fine. Mr. Chen helped us clean.
We saved the seeds. We'll plant again in the spring.
I think about you often. I think about Papa too. I wonder if he's still alive. I wonder if he thinks about me.
I'm not angry anymore. Just sad. But the sadness is smaller than it used to be.
Come visit soon. The yellow walls are still yellow.
Love, Eleanor
She folded the letter. She put it in an envelope. She addressed it.
She didn't mail it.
She put it in the drawer with the other letters. The ones she never sent.
---
The next spring, they planted again.
The same seeds. The same buckets. The same soil.
The tomatoes grew. The basil grew. The morning glories climbed the water tank.
Eleanor sat on the milk crate. Henry sat next to her.
"The garden is back," she said.
"The garden never left."
"The plants left."
"The roots stayed."
She looked at the water tank. The painted eye was still there. Faded again. But there.
"We should paint the eye every year," she said.
"Every year?"
"So it never disappears."
Henry nodded. "Every year."
He kissed her. The city hummed. The water tank hummed.