In commemoration of Earth Day, I went and got me some nice, red, earth to put in three colourful pots that I’ve had sitting on the porch for the close to a year. I plan to plant my favourite herbs and spices.
I bet Adam has no idea that some of our food grows from itsy, bitsy seeds. So, when he starts yapping about how I don’t have green fingers, and what a waste of time it is trying to grow things i can buy at the grocery store, I decide to act like he does not exist. #EarthDayHarmony
When I walk into the kitchen, I find her gently stirring something in the deep, black, metal frying
pan. She turns towards me. “Where did you leave the children?” she asks.
I’m a little confused. There have been no children in this house for a long time. But wait, she’s looking right past me. I instinctively turn back to see if someone else is standing behind me – irrational, I know, considering no one else lives here now.
“You shouldn’t have left them alone,”she says in that clipped, angry tone and returns to stirring her empty pan on the unlit stove.
Tears flow freely down my cheeks. I blow my nose noisily into an already wet tissue and I feel another sneeze coming on. My eyes are getting redder by the second, and I’m very, very hot.
It’s the worst time of the year. The rain has brought the dust particles back to earth where they belong. They are now helping every living green thing to spring back to life. Me, I feel like I’m dying.
Adam, please note: it’s a coincidence that you left me at this time last year. These tears are not for you. It’s hay fever.
Last night was peaceful. You’d get my meaning if you knew my neighbours. They fight. They fight often. It’s loud. It’s ugly. It keeps everyone up.
Last night we all took the night off. I was happy to hear my own heartbeat again. I drew the blinds. I dimmed the lights. I got my bowl of popcorn. I burrowed into the couch and started the film.
And then I heard that eerie sound again: the kitchen door opening, distinct footsteps slowly coming my way. I froze. My pounding heart rose to my throat. How I wished the neighbours would fight.
On cold days like this, I cannot help but remember the winter days we spent snuggled up under the covers, drinking hot, masala tea and watching inane shows to pass the time. In the evenings, we would cautiously venture out for some air, and spicy soup to warm the belly.
That was long ago. We scattered in the wind, didn’t we? I hope you found fertile ground, and that you’ve taken root wherever you are. I find myself perching on a delicate branch – a sparrow, waiting to soar on the next gentle breeze. I doubt I’ll fly your way though.