Growth - An Escape Route

Standing in the middle of the garden, I am surrounded by now almost painful reminders of the Gardener’s presence and activity...

The faint smell of the cow manure...

The rows of basil that sprung out of their tiny tombs...

The green-capped tomato balls with blushing cheeks...

How can something that was intended to become so good, turn out into such a colossal disaster?

The disappointment and the despair following in the wake of the great workshop fiasco exceed, far exceed my capacity of either comprehension or emotional digestion.  I think I am going to puke. 

What I really want is for the Gardener to suddenly swing around some distant corner of the outer space in his white truck and land in my driveway right this very moment.  I want him to come and whisk me somewhere far far away where there is no pain and disappointment; where there are no unanswerable questions assailing my mind and my heart, where appearances are not deceiving and the genuineness of every miracle is self-evident. I want him to take me to a place where I can embrace even the worst reality as infinitely better than the best fabricated story.

I wait. 

Nothing.

And wait.  And wait some more.

Apart from the chirping of the cardinals in Bob’s tree, everything is silent.

The blue sky above. 

The green grass below….

As if on some cue, the cardinal stops chirping.

And I think my head is going to explode from all that silence.