Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Garden (09/07/06)
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TITLE: Hand it Down | Previous Challenge Entry
By Shane Werlinger
09/11/06 -
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After a minute of reflection, I finally got out of the car and walked around to the trunk. With a flourish of keys, the trunk popped open and there it sat. A small sigh escaped as I stared into the trunk. How could something so small cause my heart to sink? The real issues were the memories and reality, not this stone.
“That’s all I got now,” I mumbled. “Just memories.”
The dam held, except for a lone tear that escaped and slid down my cheek. It made its way to my chin and plopped on the ground.
I reached in to the trunk and grasped the stone with both hands. The edges softly bit my fingers saying, “It will feel better when it stops hurting,” just as my old man used to. That did bring a smirk, while another tear followed its brother.
I trekked back to the spot I cleared earlier in the garden, right between the tomatoes and the peppers. I gently set the stone in place and pulled the soil around the edges. As my fingers were smudged with dirt, I thought of his fingers.
How many times did I watch them get smudged as he pulled weeds? Or as he carefully put in a new tomato plant? His love of the earth was infectious and had taken a hold on me.
I surveyed the plants around me and thought, “Doesn’t hold a candle to his, but he’d still be proud.”
The dam cracked a little and more tears escaped. I felt a little hand curl around my finger and I looked down on the sweet face of my little Lauren.
“Are you crying, daddy?” she squeaked.
“Yeah, baby doll, I am,” I managed to croak out.
“Is it ‘cause of that?” she asked, pointing at the stone.
“Not exactly, sweetheart. Do you want to help me weed?”
“Yeah, daddy!” she screeched and bounded off down the path.
I watched her go, her golden curls bouncing on her shoulders. I watched as she bent over and grabbed a weed, pulling it out as I had taught her, as my dad had taught me.
“See,” God whispered in my heart, “Beauty is all around you.”
A smile broke my face as I wiped the tears from my cheeks. I looked over at my daughter and then down at the stone. The prose etched on its surface pulled my smile broader. “A garden is filled with the music of life.”
This stone had been in my dad’s garden as long as I could remember. Now it rested in mine. It had come full circle. Or was that circle really complete?
The sun caressed my neck. The birds sang and chirped. Lauren held up the weed she had just pulled from the ground, her face filled with pride.
“Thanks, God,” I thought, “Life is beautiful.”
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