We have a new neighbor.
He moved in last week — quiet, middle-aged, always wearing the same navy jacket.
He doesn’t smile much, but he’s polite. Nods when we wave. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Except for the bowl.
Right there in the middle of his front yard sits a large, clear glass bowl — the size of a mixing bowl — filled to the top with colorful marbles.
Blue, green, amber, red… dozens of them, glittering like little gems in the sun. Every time I pass by, I catch a glint of light bouncing off one. It’s beautiful. Mysterious.
And weird.
My mother noticed it too. “Have you seen that bowl of marbles yet?” she whispered over coffee that morning.
“Yeah. I don’t get it.”
We’ve been speculating for days now. Is it some kind of garden art? A tribute to someone? A spiritual ritual? A message?
“It’s probably something silly,” Mom said. “Maybe he just likes marbles.”
But neither of us believed that.
Then, one evening, we walked past his house just as he stepped outside to water a flowerbed. My mother nudged me. “Ask him.”
“No way! You ask.”
We both froze awkwardly, smiling a little too hard as we passed.
And then, as if he could hear our thoughts, the man looked up and said, “Wondering about the marbles?”
We stopped. Busted.
“A little,” Mom admitted. “They’re… unusual.”
He smiled for the first time. “Each one represents a day.”
“A day?” I asked.
He nodded. “When my wife died, I filled that bowl with 1,000 marbles. One for every day I hoped to keep going without her. Every morning, I take one out. It’s my way of remembering that each day is a gift. That time is fragile — and full of color, if I choose to see it.”
We were stunned. For a moment, none of us spoke.
Then he added, softly, “There are only about a hundred left now. I don’t know what happens after the last one. Maybe I’ll fill another bowl. Maybe I won’t.”
We walked home quietly, both of us a little shaken, a little changed.
Now, every morning, I glance at that bowl on the lawn. And somehow, it reminds me to breathe, to smile, to be present — even on the hard days.
A bowl full of marbles.
A man full of grief.
And a story full of meaning… right across the street.
