Today I found myself on our back patio planting some cilantro into my “wife’s” herb garden (pictured). Now when I call it my “wife’s” herb garden what I mean is that she won it at one of here monthly girls only Pictionary competitions. However after I planted it for her I left on a business trip for a week and came back to some severely under-watered herbs. So when we call it her garden what we mean is that I will be responsible for the actual gardening and she will use the produce from the garden. I digress however…
Today as I was tending to the maintenance of the garden, the smell of the damp soil and green plants brought back memories of working in my grandpa’s garden when I was young. My grandpa kept a great garden. When we first moved in with my grandparents Back then I did not get it. At first I helped in the garden because it was part of our responsibilities while living there. As I grew older I helped him, not only out of duty, but because it was important to him and with age he needed our help to keep up with it. I never understood his passion for it though. To me a garden was work the made more work, an infinite loop of work I had no innate desire to partake in.
Now I get it though (at least a little bit anyway), there is something fulfilling about watching the fruit of your labors take shape. The constant adaptation to a puzzle whose pieces are constantly changing shape though the design stays the same. In a way it is a metaphor for the grand adventure of being a parent. It is cathartic to get some soil under my nails now. It is self-actualizing to stand there and water the garden each day and track the minute changes of each inhabitant. It is starting to become a passion for me. I get it now.
Since I made this awesome discovery I decided to do with it what I do with every awesome discovery that I make… share it with my wife. As I did she reminded me that today was the day grandpa died 2 years ago… it is funny how the universe works eh? Here’s to you wherever you are grandpa… A little of you lives on in me.
(P.S. Go Cubbies!)