A lover of words

Logophile (n.) a lover of words

Behind ivy covered walls, in a small and lovely house, right next to a lake resembling the one of Monets sea rose paintings, lived an old merciful man.

He lived a lonely life, his children rarely visited him and his wife had died many years ago. Ever since he lived withdrawn, he had his garden, a turtle named Castor (named after his favorite star constellation) and that was about it. At least that's what everyone else was thinking. But between these thick, red, brickwalls and his inconspicuous being was hidden so much more.
He had so much love to give and he especially had a love for words. Right next to a high stack of books, laying on his night stand, there was a pastel colored vase, his wife's favorite. In it, were hundreds of little notes to be found, on each written a word, but not any word but one which couldn't  be translated in any way. It had its own meaning and could only be described. Each day he took a word from that vase and made it his duty for the day.
On Thursday, the word was „agape", a noun which describes the highest form of unconditional love, selfless, sacrificial and persisting no matter the circumstances.
Usually he would have spent the day with his wife, he would have driven with her to her favorite spot, an old nostalgic theatre, where he once gave her the promise to love her forever. He still kept the promise but it wasn't possible to dedicate this „mission of love" as he always called it, with a smirking smile,  with her. Instead he took the train to visit the city. On his way, between station and ice cream shop he saw a little kid, sitting on the ground, with his head low.
The man sat down across from him, lifted the littles boy chin up and told him that no matter what was going on with him, there's noting in this world that can't be made up with a scoop of ice cream. The boy wiped away his falling tears and took the old mans hand. They went and ate ice cream together, the old man ate pistachio and the little boy lemon and after that the man brought the boy home.
They became friends and from then on every Thursday they ate ice cream together. The old man pistachio and the little boy lemon.
On another day, the word „Sweven" was written in capital letters on a lined sheet of paper. Below it was written the explanation: a vision, seen in sleep, a dream. The man then sat down at his old sekretary the following week and wrote down his dreams from the past night, on his typewriter to collect them in his dream diary.
The morning after that, the Japanese word „komorebi" became his daily mission of love. It describes the sunlight, that filters through the leaves and branches of the trees. It was late in October, he lay down on a garden chair early in the morning and observed how the leaves began falling from the trees and how they danced Walz trough the sunlight.
He adored these daily rituals, he loved how they made not only him happy but also the people surrounding him. It gave his life a sense and he hoped for the people to become more aware, aware of the world and aware of other people.
They were little gestures, his little missions of love, but their meanings were so huge.
His being may have been inconspicuous but his deeds were the exact contrary.
Just like that he became a man of many words, a metaphor only he understood, and sometimes, maybe even always, this was enough. Because he loved in so many ways and he loved with so much heart. Everybody felt it, even if they didn't knew where the love came from.
They felt it like the wind in the air, the scent of flowers blossoming and the sound of snow falling .

He and his words were a unit, cause just like his words he was on his own, his being untranslatable but describable through his deeds.

- Love Xh.