The Neighbor Who Waved

When I moved to a new city for work, I didn't know a single person. The first month was quiet in a way that felt heavy. I'd come home, heat something up, and watch the window.

Every evening an older man across the street watered his tomatoes. One night he looked up and waved. Just a wave. The next night he waved again, and I waved back. By the end of the week he was holding up a tomato like a trophy and pointing at me.

His name is Walter. He's eighty-three. He taught me how to tie up vines and how to grill corn in the husk, and he tells the worst jokes I have ever heard. I tell them to my coworkers now and they groan, and I love it.

I think about how easily that wave might never have happened. One small gesture opened a whole friendship. So now I wave at everyone. You never know whose evening you're changing.