The riot of tropical agriculture surrounding their home in Florida had produced coconuts, mangoes, oranges, tangerines, star fruit, okra, and souri, along with hibiscus the size of dinner plates and a thicket of bougainvilla so dense not even the neighborhood cats could penetrate it.

     They had walked everywhere in Sarasota, as they had their entire lives, never having learned to drive—Poppy with his wide-brimmed hat and grocery cart, Nanny with her red parasol.

     Then one day, Nanny had caught a glimpse of the Virgin Mary in the cosmetics aisle of Walgreens. Shortly thereafter, she’d suffered a stroke, which had forced them to move to Illinois, to be closer to Sajel. The weather in Elgin was cold and rainy, and there were no stores within walking distance. Nanny’s zeal for gardening left her there, along with much of her physical faculties. The two old people sat sequestered in their homogenous home, surrounded by a featureless lawn.