I had recently purchased the three-story apartment building on Maplewood and Thorndale where my grandparents lived for more than 30 years.
New tenants had recently rented the second floor apartment and were busy moving in.
Leaving for work, I ran into the young couple I had rented the apartment to downstairs.
The young woman asked me if I was in a hurry as she wanted to give me something.
She went into the basement and came back with a box whose contents I could see as there was an illustration of a croquet set on the box.
The young woman said my daughters would enjoy this and they could play in the backyard.
I was delighted the woman wanted to give us such a thoughtful gift, but I asked her why she didn’t want to keep it for the child she was expecting.
She said that by the time her child would be old enough to play with it, there was no telling if the child would even be interested in croquet.
She returned to the basement and brought up two similar boxes containing other lawn games as her husband stood by happily admiring his wife’s generosity.
As I was leaving the building, I noticed that amongst the couple’s moving boxes and furniture, they had gone to the trouble of putting a new welcome mat outside the inner front door and carpeting on the staircase that led down to the basement.
Then I woke up.
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