In the village just next to where I live there is a little row of small houses with tidy gardens that I pass on my bike time and time again.
If the weather is OK, there is an old man that sits there on a motorized scooter, just at the end of his garden, watching the world go by.
Some time ago, as I passed on my bike, I took my glasses off and said “hi” as I passed.
He waved, smiled.
I do it every time now. It would be much easier to not, much easier just to cycle past.
He's got no idea who I am, wouldn't matter to him. It makes it better though.
I always looked for him.
He makes me happy when he's there.
Blog Post Number - 4238
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