Tomatoes and Retirement

A riverside park. Evening. Yoshi is sitting on a bench. Buru the beagle sniffs along the ground at the end of the leash. A woman he walks with every day settles in beside him.

Walking Companion “How've you been? Since retiring?”

Yoshi “The tomatoes in the garden died.”

Walking Companion “Again?”

Yoshi “Overwatered them, apparently. I thought they needed more.”

Walking Companion “It's tricky, isn't it.”

Yoshi “It was the same with teaching. Too much attention and they don't grow.”

Walking Companion “My, that's deep.”

Yoshi “I meant the tomatoes.”

Walking Companion “Right, the tomatoes.”

Buru trots off to greet another dog. The leash pulls taut.

Yoshi “…But I think I'm okay with things dying now. More than I used to be.”

Walking Companion “That's deep too.”

Yoshi “Tomatoes.”

They both laugh. The sun is going down across the river.

Yoshi “Since I retired, my taste in music has changed too. Lately I've been into this drummer called Makaya Mccraven ↗. The rhythm sways — feels unpredictable. Kind of like the tomatoes.”

Walking Companion “Tomato drumming.”