(12 December 2010)
I am by no means a green thumb. Far from it. In fact, i may have invented the term ‘brown thumb’ just for myself. I kill plants. I dont know how, but no matter how hard i try, I kill them. (Luckily for us, Rani is in charge of the veggie patch). So, you will understand how surprised I was when this popped up in the garden.
Even more surprisingly. I didnt plant it.
When it first appeared , i thought it was a weed. Really. Well, come on, like i said, I didnt plant it.
Then it flowered. In September.
I looked at it, and the words ‘glorious riot’ just popped into my head.
I thought about it.
Then it hit me.
My glorious riot of colour had appeared right where we buried my precious son. My precious son, who would have turned one in September.
And now I am becoming a , dare I say it, a green thumb. The garden is weed free and thriving,
and when I am near my glorious riot of colour, I swear I can feel him.
Pulling weeds out from between the flowers feels like I am finally getting to take care of my third son, the son I missed out on.
I know he sent us Eden, to help us heal, and you know what?
I think that this little bush represents everything my son could have been.
A spectacular, glorious riot.