Gardening

The sky was so big today. It stretched out and changed so fast. I watched the orange glow flip sides. In the morning, it rose up in the East, beaming up its pink on the clouds lifting themselves up to share the day with the blue. At dusk, the glow spread itself out like thin water. The whispy clouds became gentle waves tickling the shadowy horizon as it drowsed off to sleep. The same thing happened yesterday. On these two days I found myself doing things that pleased me. I was for me today and yesterday. It felt nice doing simple things, it felt right, I saw what I wanted too.
Yesterday I worked in the garden, it was what I wanted to do, and since I wanted to be happy, I let myself pretend a bit. I pretended that you were nearby, Frost. As I sat in the dappled shade and pulled the overgrown lemon balm away from the rose arbor, I pretended that you lay on a blanket spread under a perfect tree with perfect full shade, just right for a baby. I heard you coo and I spoke to you in the way of all mothers. I said, "do you hear the birds, sweety?" "do you like the song they are singing?" "because they are singing it for you." Then I imagined that I heard you whimper and I said, "it's okay honey, mama's here." Then I looked in the dirt that I had uncovered and I realized that I was seeing it through a swelling of tears and my pretending came to an end. I said, "mama's here, but where are you? where are you Frost?" I looked at the dirt again and remembered the winter when it was buried deep under the snow and ice, I remembered when it was frozen and I went out to the same spot and sobbed for you. I was pulling and digging at that earth that had been frozen, it was now thawed, but I still found myself sobbing for you there. I called your name again and again, I didn't care that I had become dirty and scraped and burnt with the sun. I didn't care that my tears had become a muddy paste or that my nose had become so stuffed that breathing through it was impossible, my mouth was dry with gasping for you. I didn't care about the insects and spiders and slugs meandering about. I didn't care about these things at all, until out of all of the darkness of the dirt a tiny white spider crawled onto my leg and sat. He reminded me of bones. His white was a translucent white, the kind that doesn't see sunlight. The spider's world was like that of life in a cave. Underground, a tomb. When he perched himself upon my leg, he didn't scatter the way
I would expect one exposed to the unknown would. He sat there very comfortably and made me feel that he was familiar with my world. He gave me a feeling of rebirth, ressurection. I found peace with that little spider and gently sent him on his way back to the soil which he had crawled from. We all have to visit new worlds from time to time. I did what I wanted today and yesterday and so, I think, did you.
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.