It was an ordinary summer afternoon when I first found out about my grandpa's 1 garden.
That day, after school, instead of walking straight home, I decided to visit my grandpa, who lived just a few blocks away.
When I got there, I saw the front door was slightly open. I pushed it open but found nobody. Curiosity and 2 mixed within me as I ventured inside and noticed the backdoor wide open, leading to a path I'd never 3 before. There it was—a breathtaking garden, filled with flowers of all shapes and colors, greenery stretching out as far as my eyes could see. I walked 4 , marveling at the beautiful spectacle. Suddenly, I heard a rustling sound from a nearby bush, followed by a soft and familiar voice.
"I didn't 5 you to find this place, my dear," my grandpa said, emerging from behind the green leaves with a broad smile, holding a watering can.
6 by the beauty of the garden, I just stood there, taking in the view. After what felt like forever, I asked, "Grandpa, why didn't you tell me about this place?"
He shrugged and replied, "I wanted it to be a 7 , something you could discover on your own. It's more special that way, don't you think?"
Since that day, we would spend hours in the garden, tending to the flowers, sharing stories, and enjoying each other's 8 . That garden, which I discovered 9 , became our playground, a haven of peace in the midst of our bustling city lives.
Looking back now, I realize that the greatest thing I found in that garden was not the beautiful scenery, but the precious memories and 10 I built with my grandpa.
