Local

This month is turning out to be about plants, but not necessarily planting.

Thousands of  beautiful weeds grow between the playground and the parking lot at B.’s school. Each day, as we walk back to the car, we’re compelled to walk through that sunlit field, and sometimes the plants pull us down, to play.

 

She wants to gather them by the handful, and now the back seat of my car is covered with this memory. When I’m driving I glance back at the scattered seeds, and imagine a new field, growing right there between the kids’ seats.

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2 thoughts on “Local

  1. This post sounds like a poem wanting to be written:
    “…She wants to gather them/ by the handful/…the back seat of my car/ is covered with this memory…/ When I’m driving/I glance back/ at the scattered seeds/ and imagine a new field/ growing right there between the kids’ seats”
    Beautiful imagery, Elise–You plant your reflections here, and whoever reads them, experiences growth.

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