Waiting

During this time of unknown, I dedicated a majority of my time outdoors. The day that Ma'am C. told me that it was hard to find the regular produce I decided in my mind to make a personalized garden. For seven days I used a diver's knife and cleared a path in the forest. As the sun was about to set in the west I rested and smiled at my slow progress. Each day slowly went by captured by the tick marks the beetles left behind in the clay dust. I developed a hard determination to survive in the forest and scared any deer that even thought to walk into my cleared path. Each day I struggled to stay sane as the shovel hit endless bedrock hidden under the first layer of the red clay. Trails of sweat coated every inch of my aching sore body, yet I pushed myself to do more. The hands that once were weak and smooth, now hardened from callouses and blisters healed over. Each day was a battle against the deer and the mosquitoes. I waited for the seeds and the deer fencing in the mail with a baited breath, yet they arrived in their due time. Each day I sang or talked to the plants while waiting for them to push up from the hard soil. Earwigs, ants, and grasshoppers by then became a nightmare when the seedlings were young. On some days I talked to the birds or played the penywhistle. Other days I sang songs for rain and cool weather so the seeds could have a chance at survival. The more that the soil was wetted, then more the plants grew. Before I knew it, there were frogs guarding the garden from the bugs that sucked the essence of life from the seedlings. The trough became their swimming pool when the weather bore hot and a means of self discovery. One day rolled into the other like dominoes slowly becoming spread out and knocked over. Sleep which once was but a fantasy, then became a reality with hard work. When the temperature was bearable I would ready the wheelbarrow and fill it with ten gallons of water, where I then would sprint the fourth of a mile each way and water the plants or refill the trough once more. One day I had the opportunity to befriend one of the frogs over a fly. It ate the fly directly from my fingertips and rubbed its legs over it's nose. It was during these moments I felt a moment of peace.