The first tomato grew on the balcony

Dear Delyara, After my husband died, I moved from our house into a small apartment because I could no longer manage the garden. I missed the soil more than the rooms. In spring, my neighbor gave me one tomato seedling and said it could survive in a pot. I placed it on the balcony, tied it to a wooden spoon, and watered it every morning. For weeks, it produced only leaves. Then one yellow flower appeared, followed by a green fruit no larger than a marble. Today, the tomato turned red. I picked it before breakfast and carried it into the kitchen on both palms. I sliced it thinly, added salt, and ate half. I left the other half on my husband’s old plate before laughing at myself and eating that too. The tomato was not especially sweet. It had a tough skin and too many seeds. Still, something living had depended on me and grown without demanding that I become the woman I was before grief. Tomorrow, I will plant basil. I am beginning to understand that a future can start in a container smaller than the life you lost.