The morning wind blows brushing my face. I am able to smell the dew of wet grass. This morning is always the same morning as yesterday, last week and last month. I sit on the bench I made from maple wood behind my house. It is sturdy and well-shaped. I let it without any polish to preserve the original colour. I take my first sip of a cup of jasmine-flavoured tea while enjoying sunny day. Sunday is always the day that I wait for every week. My only son promised that he would visit me on the second Sunday of this month. Since today is the day, I decided not to go fishing on a river near to my cottage. I like fishing and gardening whenever I have free time to refresh my mind. I feel so excited that I finally can meet my son. I am going to tell him that I have planted daisy and daffodil in backyard. Small talk is very precious for us, although we just talk about flowers. Both of us like flowers so much. That is the reason why he decided to be a florist in the town. He sometimes sends me a bucket of flower. As time passed by, apparently I have been waiting for 4 hours. It is longer than I expected before. He has not married yet in the age of 35. I hope he is going to be married soon and live happily with his family. I often think how it feels having grandchildren.
When I am drowning into my fantasy, a postman suddenly comes to my house. He is Peter. He waves his right hand and greets me. "Hi, Martin? How are you?" "I am fine, thanks. How about you?" I said while standing to approach him. "Sunny day, huh? Nice day for fishing", as he hands me a post card.
"I am not going to go fishing today. My son will visit me. So, I prefer to stay at home." He raises his right eyebrow. "Alright, I am leaving. Many postcards need to deliver". I nod and smile at him. I enter the house then take a sit on the sofa. I read the message carefully. My body goes limp. My hands are trembling. My heart beats faster. I try to calm myself.
The post card is sent by my sister who lives in the same town as my son.
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