Counting My Blessings

Whenever I was younger, I used to live in Bloomington, Indiana. I lived nearby my grandparent's house, and I went to visit them quite often. Next door to them lived a man by the name of George. George was a friendly fellow who loved the outdoors. He was a friend to all of nature and always saw the beauty in all wildlife. His entire yard was one giant garden booming with life and every color of the rainbow. He planted plants for the birds, the butterflies and even the bunnies. George always smoked a pipe and lived alone. He still managed to stay a happy, upbeat kind of guy. George always let me go into his garden and pick all the mint plant I wanted and let me chew it all the time. Whenever I moved out of Bloomingon and into my new house, he got me my very own mint plant. Time progressed and he became quite ill and eventually passed. I never really thought about how much of a friend he was and how much he meant to me until he was gone. George was like a member of the family, and really did care about me. No matter how old I may be, I will always remember the countless summers I spent admiring George's garden.