Reader's Digest

There's a articles about My Story attracts my attention and put all my focus into it.

[Lemon Love]

It sat like a beacon in the middle of the driveway. A shiny blue bucket filled with bright yellow, unblemished lemons. A handwritten sign, propped against the bucket, invited: "Free Lemons - please take some".

I took two of the luscious lemons, but it was the simple act of generosity from this kind neighbour that lifted my spirits and stayed with me for hours afterwards. On impulse, I sat and wrote a note of thanks, on my prettiest stationery, in my best handwriting. I did not include my name or address. When I next walked past "the lemon house", as I had come to call it, I dropped my note in the letterbox.

The following week there was a letter to the editor in the local newspaper titled "Lemons Sweet Treat". It read: "This season I had an abundance of lemons and, rather than see them wasted, I put them in a bucket on my front verge with a 'Please take some' notice. A few days later I received a lovely handwritten note thanking me for the lemons and acknowledging my kindness - no name, no address. The note was totally unexpected but much appreciated. Through this newspaper I would very much like to thank this anonymous person for making my day."

I knew intuitively that this message was from my neighbour. It warmed my heart that such a simple exchange of kindness had resulted in such a powerful experience for both of us.

I walked past the house every day and it never failed to lift my spirits. One day, I noticed a petite, elderly lady standing by the letterbox. We exchanged smiles and I said hello. She commented on what a beautiful day it was, I complimented her on her beautiful house and garden. "My late husband designed and built this house," she said. "Gardening was Bill's passion. Since he died last year, I've keep everything in order." She chuckled softly, ''I can just hear him saying, 'Grace, don;t you let my garden go to ruin.' ''

She paused and looked around her, ''It always feels like Bill is still with me when I'm out here in his garden.''

I was grateful my eyes were shielded behind sunglasses as I was furiously blinking back tears. I wanted to identify myself to this lovely lady, to tell her that I was the author of the anonymous letter. But I didn't and I couldn't explain why.

The following week, I noticed more activity at the house; cars coming and going. Days later, I was alarmed to see a removalist truck parked in the driveway. A middle-aged, immaculately dressed woman was outside the house speaking on her phone. As I approached, I heard her say,''Mum would never have wanted me to sell this house, and to be honest I can't bring myself to part with it either."

She turned back towards the house and I couldn't hear the remainder of her conversation but I felt grim foreboding that something had happened to Grace.

I waited until the woman had finished her call, then asked, ''Excuse me for intruding, but is Grace OK?" The pain reflected in the woman's eyes was palpable as she softly said, ''My mother passed away peacefully in her sleep last week.''

''I'm so sorry for your loss,'' I said. The news of Grace's death saddened me more than I would have expected, and I was momentarily lost for words. To fill the awkward silence, I told Grace's daughter the story of the lemons. ''So that was you!'' she exclaimed, ''Mum told me about the letter... You'd be amazed how much it meant to her!''

I attended Grace's funeral, and met other members of her family and friends. Through their memories, I gained a deeper insight into the special person that was my ''lemon lady''.

Since that day I have developed a very close friendship with Grace's daughter, Sarah. As Sarah had no desire to sell her parent's home after her mother's death, I arranged to rent it from her.

I now live in the wonderful aura of ''the lemon house'', surrounded by the essence of Grace. I tend to Bill's garden lovingly, Every year, when the lemon tree produces it magnificent fruit, I put out a shiny blue bucket filled with luscious lemons on the front verge, with a handwritten sign that invites my neighbour to ''Please take some - in memory of Grace and Bill''.

Taken From

Reader's Digest

April 2012.

By Veronica Dayman