I Used To Be an Optimistic Child Believing everything was black and white. ~~~~ It was the first summer in our new home. I was six or seven My Father needed help in the lawn so feeling in a helping mood, I went out. His hands were in the dirt and his forehead was bronzed. He waved his arm at a small, Delicate flower. Go pull weeds. Not one to question him while, he was busy, I went over to inspect the flower- i mean **** How could something so tiny, even more do than my hands, be considered a ****?
My tiny mind thought weeds were dark green and barley clinging to life, with thorns that sliced at other helpless plants and animals. Almost like bad people.
I imagine it was then that My small mind had begun to grasp at the idea that plants and people alike could deceive you.