The Visitor

When I answered my doorbell at my carport gate, I came face-to-face with an old man wearing an open plaid shirt, a baseball cap, and he had chewing tobacco smeared up alongside his face.  He had the bluest eyes, the color of the sky on a cloudless day.

He sat atop a bicycle and in passing my little cottage, he admired my garden.  He stopped to ask me if I would share some of my green bean seeds with him.  When I set about returning to my kitchen for a small baggie in which to put some of my seeds to give to him, some strange things began to happen, one of which was that when I opened my pantry to grab a baggie, I became paralyzed and that's when the miracles began to happen.  That's when everything changed.