Every morning I go outside for a minute or two with my garden before heading off to work striking up a day of parenting. It’s a few minutes to gather in the day and see the progress these little living things of mine have made in just a few short hours.
Today I walked out to a scene of marred tranquility. On close inspection the tops on my cucumbers, beans and tomatoes had been mowed down by a nighttime marauder. It is the nature of the garden, to try and cultivate life without really knowing if you’ll ever have anything to show for your time, love and effort.
I couldn’t help thinking that if you could illustrate the work, hope and care I put into cultivating life each month today was the perfect illustration to go along with the end of the month. Going to bed hopeful and peaceful only to be sorely disappointed the next morning. The image of all that work just being destroyed by something out of your control no matter the food, the water or the fences you put up. It feels like every month I plan, I nurture and I protect, but at the end of the month I haven’t done enough.
Today I cried as I rode the bus to work today. It was in public and no doubt people could see me, but I couldn’t stop. I cried during lunch and I’ll probably cry at least once more today and I’m not a crier, it is not something which comes easily to me. It is not in my nature.
I’m now entering into June, one of my favorite time of year, with such dread and sadness. The first of many unwelcome anniversaries, another due date about to come and go, and entry into the dreaded month sixteen. It took fifteen months last time, now barring a miracle I’m into month sixteen. Month sixteen feels like being in a small cave with no light. It feels like a failure and it feels like a punishment. Every month feels like this morning in the garden when all of your work and care lay bare, another victim to the nature of things out of your control.