About pain and plants.


My mom started this little garden in our backyard.

It was the place where we kept our bikes and my dad fishing rods when we all lived with her.

But years and accidents started to empty the house, until everything that was left in there was a big, blank space, screaming at her: You failed!

So she did her best, she started to fill it with plants. The first ones when i was 15 and my dad left.

Then came the big imported pots, when my sister moved to Maryland and didn’t missed us at all.

Flowers came when i moved away to the south; Bigger ones when i had a baby and took her with me to France.

Gnomes, Frogs, Stone turtles, lies, mistakes, dissapointments.

Now when i visit her i stand there, in the middle of her little safety net, and the air feels different, and the wind chimes talk, and i swear the flowers make a synchronised dance, and i don’t think i’ll ever again see pain all around me, arranged in such a beautiful way.


13 thoughts on “About pain and plants.

      1. Your welcome.
        And I’m fine. This is the year of changes for me: planning to buy a place here in the next few months which will probably traumatize my cat but it will be much closer to the next university I’ll be working at so he’ll just have to adjust. And one of my novels has been picked up by a British publisher so that’s another change. But all in all, just fine.
        Hope you’re doing better getting over the last guy. You deserve better. That’s for sure.

  1. This is a really lovely story. I can see that place and the experiences that inspired your mom create it. Well done! Thanks for checking out my blog and for the follow. xLaura

  2. Lovely piece. The personal image and feelings are very vivid. Thanks for sharing. Also thanks for following my blog. Mine’s a place to come and hopefully laugh a little. I am following you as well. (really like the title and subtitle – makes me wish I had thought of something as good)

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