i remember as a child
watching my mom work in the garden
during scorching summer evenings, sweating
as she dug up dirt in the backyard,
and thinking, i, too, could do that one day

i mimicked her motions in an effort to learn,
watching her sprinkle lemongrass
into the *** of tamarind broth,
grabbing a fistful of fresh basil,
and wishing i could reach over the brim

watching her eyes glaze over
as she concentrates and threads the needle,
pushing up her small glasses
every few minutes, i poked at my own forehead
and squinted hard to find the hole
that ceased to exist

now, when the summertime comes,
i spend my evenings in the yard,
digging up the same dirt,
realizing that day has come