Tomatoes that never reached!

When I was six,  my grandma used to tell me myths about an old man who lived across the alley but never came out of his house!
One day I started leaving small fresh tomatoes ( plucked from my backyard ), near his door (my grandma once told me he loved tomatoes ). And one day he showed up, although he appeared scary I ended up chatting with him and then I started leaving two extra tomatoes near his door every Sunday. He lived all alone, so for the favour of tomatoes, he narrated me beautiful stories. Eventually, I became very fond of him and his stories! We used to have steamed sweet potatoes together while he often amazed me with toffees every weekend. Soon I had to leave for a new city, I promised him I will return soon.
I returned, I was 14 by then, during the fall but till the moment I rushed out to see him, I got to learn that he left the world already and I was carrying the tomatoes for him – that never really reached him .

I wonder how little relations like this can matter heavy at times  – mid of all our occupied life when we keep these small relationships , they make us feel solace , they don’t charge much – just our presence is all they need!

The house is still empty with a long stillness as if it still asks me to visit – but I think I can never muster up the courage to go there again.