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We
sit down on the edge of the vegetable plot. I bury my bare feet into the soft,
warm, wet dirt between the rows.
Why did you do this? I ask, staring intently at my disappearing
toes. Why wouldn't you let me go to Home Depot and get some already
blooming flowers?!!
What I am doing you don’t
understand now… but you will understand it later, he says with calm assurance.
I
don’t feel so sure. I feel uncomfortably squeezed between
the “now” and the “later”, the elusive understand slipping from my grasp like the soil between my
toes. What
is there to understand? And why can’t I understand it now?
What do we do now? I ask, standing up, brushing the dirt off the bottom of my jeans. He remains seated.
We wait.
We wait?!!! I groan. Sir, I must inform you
that patience is not my thing. I’ve never been good at
waiting. It
makes me feel so… so out of control… so powerless and useless and wasteful. And I don’t
like that. Not one bit. I am a DOER, not a waiter!
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