My Gentleman and the Stone…

 

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My daughter was weeding her front garden the other day. I was watching and speaking with her when one of our neighbours came along.  I was used to seeing him on his bike, but he was now in a wheelchair.

He stopped to ask if he could have a few pieces of the slate from my front garden, as he liked to paint stones and couldn’t get to the beach anymore.

I was happy to give him as many pieces as he wanted, but before I could bend down to get a few, he asked my name, putting out his hand to shake mine.

Instead of shaking it, he kissed the back of my hand like an olden day gentleman, making me feel like a lady. I could almost feel the crinoline brushing against my legs. He said he would leave a painted piece in my garden when he could.

Two days later, I watched as he tried to maneuver his wheelchair up the small step to my path. Abandoning his efforts, he managed to walk to my front garden.

By now I was on my feet, crossing the room. From my window, I could see a beautifully painted stone lying on the ground. By the time I reached my front door, he had made it back to his wheelchair. Picking up the beautifully painted stone with a lump in my throat, I thanked him and blew him a kiss. He told me that the paint didn’t go well on the slate and had used a stone instead.

I felt overwhelmed by this gift, so much so that I sat on the couch crying my heart out and couldn’t say why.

Jaye said it because it was a wonderful gift, from a wonderful gentleman whose name is Peter…

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9 thoughts on “My Gentleman and the Stone…

  1. A while back a chap who came to our writers’ group said he used to paint simple quotes on large pebbles, then go to the beach or up to Hengistbury Head to leave them lying for people to see. I think there is also a recent trend for children to paint pebbles ave them for people to see or photograph.

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