Tom

living out life
2009-05-16 10:11:30 (UTC)

A Lesson From The Garden

Preston Walters rolled his eyes and sighed heavily as
warm air started coming from the air conditioning vents.
This always happened when he was in the car line; it was
one of the reasons that he hated picking Misty up from
school. He shut the air off and pushed down on the
electric window buttons. The front, passenger window
glided down with ease, but the other three stayed put. He
slammed down on the buttons with his fingertips
repeatedly, hoping to get some kind of reaction, but the
windows didn’t budge.
By the time he got to the pick-up point he was soaked
with sweat and totally frustrated. Misty saw his car and
started jumping up and down, waving excitedly. When the
all clear signal was given she ran to the window and
shrieked, “Hi Daddy!”
In a sour voice he uttered, “I’m hot. Just get in the
car so we can get out of here.”
She opened the door and jumped in, throwing a pink
book bag in the floorboard. Totally oblivious of his bad
mood, she said, “I like it when you pick me up Daddy.”
Preston looked her way, forced a smile and lied. “So do I
Honey. So do I.”
Misty talked non-stop all the way home, going into
great detail about every minute of her day. Preston simply
drove and half listened, offering an obligatory, “Really?”
or, “You don’t say?” during the rare quiet moments. When
they reached the house Misty jumped out as soon as the car
stopped. Before he could even get out of the car she was
bursting through the front door. As he watched her run
inside he could hear her small, excited voice, “Mommy,
Mommy! Guess what I did today?” Preston sighed and leaned
over to pick up the book bag.
Later on that day, while walking to the garden, he
relived his drive home with Misty. He didn’t like the way
he felt toward his six year old daughter, but he just
couldn’t seem to get over it. Misty was their third child
and the only one that wasn’t planned. In fact, she was a
total surprise, coming nine years after Tiffany and eleven
years after Jack, now a senior in high school. He thought
about having one child ready to graduate while another was
just starting out. He suddenly felt tired… and very old.
He stopped at the gate and looked out onto the
garden. This was his favorite place to be, his silent
escape from life. He spent at least thirty minutes a day
here pulling weeds, picking off bugs, looking for new
growth and just enjoying the time outside. It always
helped him get his mind straight. His eyes moved to the
end of the garden. There, completely covering the fence
was the plant that had become the central point of his
backyard getaway.
He had found it about a month before, one little leaf
poking out of the ground at the end of the bean row. He
started to pull it up, but it looked like a squash plant,
so he left it where it was. He checked it almost daily and
the little plant seemed to take on a life of its own.
Before long it had put out large green leaves and Preston
decided that it was a pumpkin. Then, it started branching
out with long, wispy tendrils that reached out and took
hold of the fence. One day he looked in on it and a
beautiful white flower had opened up. There, attached to
the flower, was a small green fruit shaped like an
hourglass. He knew then what it was; it was a gourd.
Disappointed, he thought about pulling it up. It was,
after all, in the bean row. Besides, you can’t even eat
gourds. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He enjoyed
watching it too much. So, he left it where it was and
every day since then he had rushed out to the garden to
check on it. He spent a lot of time manipulating the vines
so they would grow up the fence and it had practically
covered every square inch of it. He was amazed how
something that started out so small could grow so
quickly.
Preston was still admiring the gourd plant when he
felt something brush against his leg. He looked down and
saw Misty. Her small hands were holding onto the chain
link gate and her face was pressed up against it so that
one eye was staring through a rusty link. She only said
five words, “I like your garden Daddy,” and then she
looked up at him and smiled. Then, as quickly as she was
there, she was gone.
Preston watched her skip away and a disturbing
thought crossed his mind. Misty was, in fact, just like
his precious gourd plant. The gourd plant came up
unexpectedly; so did Misty. The gourd plant showed up in
the wrong row; Misty showed up in the wrong part of his
life. He was disappointed when he found out what the gourd
plant really was; he was disappointed when he found out
his wife was pregnant with Misty.
His heart melted as he thought about Misty. Was he
treating this gourd plant better than he was treating his
own daughter? How much time had he actually spent with
her, talking to her, really listening to what she had to
say? Was it possible that he was holding a grudge against
her for coming along so late in his life? Was he actually
blaming her for some of his marital and financial
problems? The more he meditated on it the more he
shamefully realized that it was all true.
He thought a moment and then looked back toward the
flowing plant at the end of the garden. He had been so
wrong about that plant. In a matter of weeks, with a
little care and nurturing, it had become the centerpiece
of his garden. What if he would have pulled it up when it
was just coming out of the ground? He would have never
gotten to watch it grow or see it bloom. He would have
missed out on so much. What was he missing out on with
Misty by acting the way he was?
A sound shook him out of his thoughts and he turned
to see Misty running across the yard with her arms held
straight out to the side of her body. She turned and
waved, “Come play with me Daddy.”
Preston looked at his garden, then back at Misty. He
could almost hear the gourd plant silently pleading with
him to step inside the gate. There was a moment of
indecision. Then, somewhere in the back of his mind a
distant voice spoke to him, Go play with her.
He spoke out loud, in answer to the voice, “But what
about the garden?”
The voice answered back, Are you raising a garden or
are you raising a daughter?
The question shocked him and he was still thinking
about it when Misty called out to him again, “Come on
Daddy, play with me. Please?” She stopped right in front
of him, arms still extended, making bubbly airplane
noises. Then, she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around
his legs and said, “I love it when we play together Daddy.”
Suddenly the garden didn’t look so enticing and he
found himself leaning over to hug her back. With a slight
tremor in his voice he said, "So do I Honey. So do I.” And
this time, he really meant it.




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