Meet Peace From Panic!!

Peace from Panic

Our gardener is one of the kindest and hardest working men I know. Every Friday morning, he arrives in his old pickup truck with rakes, shovels, and tools piled in the back. Sometimes he has a helper but usually not. His tattered jeans, long-sleeved plaid shirt with a missing a button or two, and his worn-out work boots, reflect a man who isn’t interested in outward appearances. He’s content with his simple life and takes pride in working hard to make a living.

Our family calls him Papa. He reminds us of my dad, who we call Papa, except that our gardener happens to be Hispanic. Gardener Papa’s gentle voice, big smile that exposes some missing teeth, hearty laugh, and round belly make him seem jolly. His dark, loose curls bounce as he walks back and forth pushing the lawnmower. I don’t know how old he is, but I’d guess…

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