Dear Mom

The sharp pangs of missing you don't hit as often, Mom, but sometimes that feeling shows up out of nowhere and startles me with it's intensity. A random thought or incident or story or memory will suddenly bring to my consciousness the painful reality that you are gone. Gone.

Just yesterday a silly "bunny trail" thought process led to thoughts of you, Mom, and the way you would have responded was so real in my mind it made me catch my breath and remind myself that I'll never hear you say that again! The usual sadness of never being able to talk to you again followed. So many things I would love to tell you all about, Mom.

We did a tiny little garden spot again this year, Mom, for fun. A row of your marigolds went in along the back, then tomato plants on one end and cucumbers on the other and Jennifer's ten precious green bean seeds given by her first grade teacher along the front. It was really too much for the tiny space but I couldn't say no to the green beans, so we crammed it all in.

You would love to see our little plot, Mom. Jennifer's teacher had told her these green beans need a fence to climb on, and the minute they popped out of the ground she couldn't stop reminding me of that fact! So, one day when I was at The House On The Hill, I went into the woods and gathered myself a nice stack of sticks. Back at home we fashioned a little fence for the beans and a teepee for the cucumbers. Jennifer was so pleased!

We've had such fun watching our plants flourish, Mom. It has rained and rained and our plants are lush and green. The tomato plants have taken over their alloted space and then some. The marigolds are growing taller by the day, making a living fence along the back edge. The cucumbers have lagged behind a bit and not all the seeds came up, I don't believe. The beans? Those things actually did climb. Right up our makeshift fence and on off the tops of our sticks!

We've had a few unwanted visitors in our patch. When the beans and cukes were small, some curious critter with pointy hooves decided the tender leaves should be sampled. The plucky little plants bravely grew on and were climbing beautifully until just last week somebody came back for another meal. In spite of that, there's fruit on the vines! Every discovery of tiny veggies growing brings excited smiles and bright eyes. And we've used your mothball strategy and hung some around to (hopefully) keep away future pests.

It's because of you, Mom, that I'm doing this. You modeled a love for growing things and I do it for the fun and the opportunity to pass on the love, not for the handful of green beans that we might get from ten small seeds. I treasure those summers spent hoeing and planting and weeding and harvesting. And if those cucumbers and tomatoes survive? Yum. I can taste them already!

Love you, Mom.
You are still missed...