The old woman sat on the park bench, a symphony of wrinkles etched on her face, watching the pigeons squabble over crumbs. Young Leo, all knees and elbows, bounced beside her. "Grandma Rose," he asked, his voice a small whirlwind, "how do you know how to love someone?"
Rose chuckled, a sound like dry leaves rustling. "Oh, Leo," she said, "love isn't something you learn from a book. It's more like… growing a garden."
Leo frowned. "A garden? But I hate weeding!"
"Love has its weeds too, little sprout," Rose said, winking. "But let me tell you a story. Once, there was a young man named Thomas. He thought he loved a beautiful flower, a rose, of course. He admired its vibrant color, its perfect petals. He kept it in a fancy vase, never letting it feel the sun or the rain. He thought he was protecting it, showing it love."
Leo’s eyes widened. "But that's not love! Flowers need sun and rain!"
"Exactly!" Rose exclaimed. "Thomas's love was about what he wanted, not what the rose needed. He loved the idea of the rose, not the rose itself. He didn't see that true love is about understanding and nurturing, even when it's messy."
"So, what happened to the rose?" Leo asked, his voice hushed.
"It withered," Rose sighed. "It couldn't thrive in his gilded cage. Thomas eventually learned that love wasn't about possession, but about letting go, about providing the right conditions for growth."
Leo pondered this. "Like when I give my pet hamster fresh water and food?"
"That's a good start," Rose smiled. "But love for people is more complicated. It's not just about the basics. It's about seeing them, truly seeing them, with all their quirks and imperfections. It's about listening, really listening, not just waiting for your turn to talk. It's about understanding their dreams and fears, even when they're different from yours."
"And what about the weeds?" Leo asked, picking at a loose thread on his jeans.
"Ah, the weeds," Rose said. "Those are the difficult parts. Sometimes, love means forgiveness. Sometimes, it means setting boundaries. Sometimes, it means having difficult conversations. It's not always easy, but it's always worth it. Because just like a garden needs tending, love needs work."
She pointed to a couple walking hand-in-hand, their faces etched with the lines of time and laughter. "Look at them," she said. "They've weathered storms together, I'm sure. But their love has grown stronger because they chose to keep tending their garden."
Leo looked at the couple, then back at Rose. "So, loving someone is like… giving them sunshine and rain, and pulling out the weeds, and listening to them, even when they're talking about boring stuff?"
Rose laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "That's a pretty good summary, sprout. But remember, every garden is different. What one person needs to thrive, another might not. The most important thing is to pay attention, to learn, and to keep trying. And even when things get tough, remember that the most beautiful gardens take time and patience."
Leo leaned against Rose, the bustling park suddenly feeling a little less chaotic. He thought about his hamster, about his parents, about his friends. Maybe love wasn't just a feeling, but a verb. Maybe it was about doing, about giving, about growing together. And maybe, just maybe, he could learn to love, one small weed at a time.