I remember being a child and running outside to find my mom on her hands and knees in one of her gardens. I remember these times being mostly after dinnertime when Florida's hot, humind heat was no longer hammering down on us, when all six of us had been fed a hearty dinner, after she'd already fed us breakfast, lunch, snacks. After she did laundry for six, hung most of it out to dry, kept a clutter-free, clean home, and worked as a nurse part-time. Of course then how these things all came to fruition, daily, never even occurred to me. They were just mom things. She took good care of us like that.
She always went out in the evening to weed; said she loved to weed. And she'd talk out loud to herself while she picked each and every annoying intruder, and she'd groan a little as she moved her body along like I imagine a field worker picking cotton from sunup til sundown must have done, and most likely all the time in between.
I know for sure now that the weight of hard-labor bore down on her, and then some, because I do the same thing, only with two children, complete reliance on my dryer, and no part-time job. And unlike her, you will never hear me say that I love to weed, because I fucking hate weeding. But I love my garden beds like she loved hers. And more importantly, I love that bit of time to myself to pick noxious thoughts out of mind. I understand that time now. I even talk out loud to myself. Recently, I was pulling weeds and Theo was nearby. He called over to me, "Are you mad, Mama?" Oh, I smile.
I've got something heavy on my mind. It's been bothering me for awhile now. Sweet relief seems to come only when I'm tending in my yard at day's end, when everyone has been fed and cared for. It involves my children and their future schooling which makes everything so much worse. And then last night I read these words: "...there is something just past the heartbreak, just past the curse, just past the despair, and that thing is beautiful. You don't want it to be beautiful. at first. You want to stay in the pain and the blackness because it feels familiar, and because you're not done feeling victimized and smashed up. But one day you'll wake up surprised and humbled, staring at something you thought for sure was a curse and has revealed itself to be a blessing--a beautiful, delicate blessing."
So I don't know what will happen in the end. I did go out and get involved for once with our school district and community, instead of feeling sorry for myself, for my kiddos. I'll keep weeding and tending because that is how I learned to care for myself--thank you, Mom--and with great care, either way, I will tuck those words in my back pocket.
--quoted words by shauna niequist, cold tangerines--
