I was pink-cheeked and sweaty as I approached the final uphill of my journey. After an hour and a half at the garden, I was carrying a bag of bounty on the last leg of the walk home when a neighbor hailed me with a swatting gesture.
I knew right away that he was asking if I'd been on the pickleball court, and I shook my head no and pointed to the bag on my shoulder. "I've been at the garden," I shrugged. "But we did play pickleball earlier."
"What's coming in now?" he asked, and I was only too happy to tell him about the eggplant, tomatoes, peppers, and okra I was carrying.
"Do you walk up there?" he asked, and when I nodded he answered, "Nice," with just a bit of a wistful sigh.
"I've been staring at a screen all day," he told me.
I regarded myself, tanned and happy, and considered the events of my day, baking bread, playing pickleball, gardening, then I smiled sympathetically and offered him a couple of tomatoes and the promise of a pickleball game tomorrow.
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