I planted seeds in you and you planted them in me.
I watered and watered and watered
I think I may have drowned them.
I was never a good gardener.

My mother had a garden for winter, spring, fall, and summer.
I didn't like to get my hands *****
I washed the breakfast dishes on Saturdays and finger painted the printer paper on the back porch.
She tended and weeded and poured love into every leaf.
While I picked blades of grass and made stick families on the porch steps.
I was never a gardener.
But I did watch.
I knew how to water. I knew how to ****.
I knew how to analyze what needs tenderness and what needs grit.
I knew how to water water water
I knew how to drown.

She cooked and cleaned and hid her face when Arthur screamed. She made dinner with the tomatoes she grew and salads with the cucumbers. She loved him with every ounce and never stopped. (she never stopped gardening)

I was never a good gardener. I never learned when to stop. My mother didn't teach me that part.