She paused on the sidewalk to smell the lavender. Her kids running ahead of her on their walk.
“Your garden looks great,” she commented, “I’m jealous.”
I thanked her for her compliment, pausing in my weed pulling.
“What do you feed your garden?” she asked.
What do I feed my garden?
I feed it my sadness,
I feed it my loneliness,
I feed it all of the things that feel shaken up inside me, about to explode.
I feed it to my garden – I let it go in the dirt.
“I really don’t feed it anything,” I remarked. “Just water it when its hot and weed it – or try to keep it weeded.”
She commented that she struggles with keeping the weeds down too, then excused herself to go chase down her children.
If my garden is an indication of my mental health, it’s thriving because the earth happily accepts what the negative feelings I have to give it.
Thank you, earth, for taking it.