As a youngster, I recall the lush gardens in our backyard. Mom and Dad tended them diligently. Perhaps, I took their beautiful existence for granted. The gardens that is. And maybe, my parents, too, at the time.
As I am much older, with my own children to nuture, and a potential garden to grow, the purpose of the garden has somehow changed.
Back then, there were moments my brother and I simply did not understand the time the grown-ups spent tilling the dirt, planting the seeds... Of course, the results were lovely. The yard was transformed from a flat and empty void, to an oasis. A refuge for wildlife, a harbor for us from the world outside, a meeting place.
I did not understand why they spent so much time working to create this special space.
Now, it seems my own life is becoming a bit more complicated. The children are growing. They've each their own needs. Their own issues.
When the weight of our world becomes too pressing, confusing, I find myself looking to the green of the trees. My fingers picking at the weeds and sifting through the dirt. The heaviness lifts a touch. The chaos begins to fade.
Perhaps, this is how our own oasis will begin.