Dear Kindness, starting a garden without a green thumb is overwhelming. I felt like nothing would grow. After 4 weeks, I dropped the entire box of seedlings. I almost cried. Okay I did. I sat there in dirt for a moment.
Dirt seemed to fly every which way. I swept my little pods and placed them in the box.
Saddened by my butter-fingers. No one to blame but me. I’m always dropping something or knocking something over. I started praying, humming a little ditty in my spirit.
Praying over my house, over my plants, over my neighbors, over this pandemic and everything in between.
Praying and cleaning as usually. I went to bed and got up the next morning to my surprise things are growing.
Now, don’t ask me, what’s what? At this point. I’m overjoyed!
I just have to keep going and let nature run its course.
Plants are resilient little things, and so are we.
I think as writers we are more prepared to stay put and write. I believe it was always in my nature to have projects, I could give my heart to. Here are a few things in the making … (photo of my Kombucha)
My First Batch Of Herbal Mint & Strawberry Kombucha 10 days and counting…
Starting my first indoor garden -my poor plant- babies, I’ve killed plenty/ No green thumb here but I’m not giving up
Painting the kids room with slate paint- mostly the kids are enjoying painting
Lights off Story Hour – Listening to the kids read or watching their imaginary minds go wild and crazy
Spring Cleaning including the old Attic
Picture Time – Going through old photos with the family
Mini Concert time – Pulling out the Karakoe machine-which was 2019/Christmas gift I’d hidden but now it truly serves a purpose
Learning Pottery – my kids love clay, dirt all the above
Building A Rocket Stove in the backyard
Exercise with the Kids
Me time (reading in the bathroom)
feel free to share how you are coping with our current conditions
I so desperately wanted to get back to third grade. I did everything in my little -big girl power to show Mr. Luna. I handed in my math homework on time. This time without any ketchup, mustard or hot sauce stains. Hey no judgement please! I even washed the dishes.
However, the only way to do homework was over a bowl of tomato soup and sometimes if I’m lucky spicy grilled cheese. Of course I added the hot sauce. My big-haired sister complained. “Mama Krissy’s using all the hot sauce again.” To that mama would answer, “I better have enough for my spicy fried chicken!” I quickly put away mama’s special hot sauce and finished multiplying by two’s.
Yes homework was a breeze but reading to kids my own age was terrifying. Somehow I got up in front of the whole class everyday, like I knew what I was doing.
Mr. Luna finally caved-in about half-way through the second grading period and welcomed me back to class.
O’h was I over the moon and back again. So much so, I volunteered to staple all the Holiday Papers for Christmas break. Mr. Luna gave out a serious warning “Krissy with so many papers to staple, be extremely careful.”
There I was watching the clock, could 2:45 pm go any faster? Never mind that! I had four stacks of paper to staple and deliver to every student by 3:05 pm. Christopher Jones shouted “there’s no way she’s gonna finish in time!
Thoughts started jumping in and out my head o’ he’s so-o-o- right. What was I thinking? That’s the thing, I wasn’t thinking. I had to be miss goody two-shoe. Staple everybody ‘s paper and now I’m in deep water.
I turned my head for a split second, to say something back to Christopher Jones. Before I could muster up a smart remark. I heard a very loud crunch. I look down. I didn’t start freaking out right away. Its just when the paper and my thumb started bleeding.
Mr. Luna had no words, just pointed me toward the door. I knew I’d blew it. There I was sitting in the nurse’s office. Mrs. Polk, the nurse, had glasses that hung off the edge of her pointy nose. She said, “what is it this time? I stapled my thumb. Mrs. Polk snickered “Krissy, I’m not even a bit surprised, you’ll live.” And it turns out, staples go straight through thumbs if your not careful.
P.S. If you’d stayed all the way till the end, from my heart to yours, thank you. And if you’d like to know what happens next stay tune,
I’ll be back with more stories from my real life third grade childhood.
I am Eva -former refugee, doctor and a writer. My parents were Holocaust survivors, I escaped communism. I wrote a novel, mixing family stories and fiction. A novel about Holocaust, communism, racism and emigration. What makes people leave, and what happens to the ones who do, and to the ones who stay. I believe these old stories are more important now than ever before.
A Poet's Vision 