She sat in
the garden, she had nothing in particular she wanted to do, certainly didn’t
have anyone to see and the empty hours passed with only the sunlight informing
her of this occurrence. Being in the garden reminded her of him and she wasn’t
ready to give up the memories just yet. He had liked gardening, in her mind she
could see him carrying weeds in his hand, dressed only in his shorts as he
worked throughout the warm afternoon.
When they
were in different countries, waiting to be together, he used to send texts and
write emails telling her about what he had done; about the flowers that needed
support, the trees he wanted to pull out and the future plans of the plotted space
he had been assigned to in this world. When he would call her, her mind lazily
listened. His garden brought great pleasure to him as he could maintain the
illusion of being able to control his universe. He could decide what would stay
and go, what would die and live. Life seemed simple when clear results could be
achieved, and only needed a little feeding, watering and weeding to be
maintained.
On one of
their last days in his garden, he walked near the hammock where she lay and
asked her,
‘What are you doing?’ Casually she waved a
novel in his direction, her eyes floating from the imaginary world the author
had dragged her in to. As she focused, she gently searched his to see if he
actually wanted to know. He looked at the novel and then went back to his work.
‘Would you like to go out later?’ he asked.
She had wanted
to go out before, and the belated question felt more like an insult to her, knowing
that for hours he had put his garden before her, but she was desperate to leave
this unknown entity that she rashly agreed to live in. She wanted to explore
the area she was now forced to reside.
‘Yes,’ she replied.
‘Where do you want to go?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know, what is there to do here?’ she
replied, frustrated that he had no plans in mind. She had only been there for
two and a half days.
He was
clearly under-prepared for her arrival and it seemed to her that he was
determined not to support her through this transition she was undergoing. This
was her 6th home in 5 years and she had just finished the biggest
rollercoaster of her life, traveling, working and living in Asia, Europe and
Australia, permanently adapting to change.
The last two
years in India, the most stressful and exhausting of her life, had stripped her
of everything she knew about herself, all her resources and savings, but she
kept going because of a promise she made to some beautiful children, determined
always to do the best she could. She also underwent a personal storm that ravaged everything she
had previously thought was her – she dealt with ashram life, politics and inner
change and constantly worked on her self, stripping limitations that popped up
more regularly than the springs in the increasingly uncomfortable mattress she
had slept upon. She was physically, mentally, emotionally and more worryingly
for her, spiritually, exhausted.
She had made
a promise to her children and kept it. She felt strongly about promises because
a person who keeps their word is a reliable and responsible person, is someone
to lean upon when times get tough, when support is needed. Maybe that’s why she
always found it easy to keep and maintain friendships; they always knew her
word was her truth and that she would stand by whatever she said.
But he hadn’t
promised her anything, she could see that now. She had interpreted his offer as
a promise of a new life together, but he only meant to offer his body at night,
and kettle by day, for everything else she was on her own.
Clarity was
dawning on her and she didn’t have the energy, means or strength to deal with
it at all.
Soon enough
he realised he couldn’t determine where she would be planted, that she was a
species that needed more than just water and food. She wasn’t a tree who
silently watched his days with no words to say, or a rose giving off sweet
scent with only an occasional thorn he could snap off. He also saw that her
roots were not strong or deep enough yet, so he still had the power to dictate
whether she should stay or go without hacking into them.
It only took
four days to uproot, now she sat in a different garden and thought of him.
You can read my short stories here: Gracie's short stories
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You can read my short stories here: Gracie's short stories
Follow me here...
Twitter: Gracie's Twitter Page
Facebook: Gracie's FB page
Google +: Gracie's Google + page
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