He slowly opened his eyes.
—Thank you for coming today.
Tears were streaming down my cheeks.
—Thank you very much for letting me in.
She smiled.
He looked out the window.
And he whispered something to me that I will never forget.
—Now Elena doesn’t have to worry about me anymore.
A few hours later, he passed away peacefully.
The whole neighborhood came to say goodbye to him.
There were teachers.
Mechanical.
Children.
Merchants.
Entire families.
People who hadn’t seen him for years.
People who could never have imagined how much it had meant in their lives.
After the funeral, my hands were trembling when I opened it.Inside, there was only one letter.
We said:
“Dear neighbor:”
If you are reading this, it means I finally saw Elena again.
I would like to ask you one last favor.
Don’t let the bougainvillea disappear.
Not because they are flowers.
But because they represent something far more important.
They embody the fact that, even after the loss of loved ones, we retain the ability to share beauty with others.
For a long time, I believed I was completely alone.
But I was wrong.
Every morning, I could hear your broom.
I could hear your footsteps.
And I knew someone was nearby.
Then you came to my house.
And you gave me back something I thought was lost forever.
Friendship.
Thank you for reminding me that I still have a place in this world.
Lover,
Samuel.
I finished the letter in tears.
Nearly three years have passed since then.
The bougainvillea continues to grow over the fence we share.
Every Wednesday, I still sit on this veranda with a cup of coffee.
Sometimes alone.
Sometimes accompanied by a neighbor.
And every time the flowers drop a few petals on my entrance, I smile.
Because I no longer see any dry leaves to collect.
I see the memory of a good man who taught me a lesson I will never forget:
Life’s greatest tragedies are not always illness or death.
Sometimes, it’s loneliness. I was at home and I remembered the envelope.
