May we all have a well-rooted friend who knows the peculiarities and particulars of a place, and without judgement, fills us in when we forget to even ask the question.

…a garden cannot be rushed. It cannot be hurried along with bribery like a child dawdling to put their shoes on. Building a home, I suppose, is a slow, laborious process. And one I had never been a part of, but I’d like to be. The garden has invited me to stay, to grow entwined with it, but it’s harder than I imagined.

Here, in the garden, I do not have to market my services. I do not have to hide my pain to be palatable. I am not a brand or a billboard. My tired eyes go unnoticed. Time simply passes for us both—the garden and I.