Trials of my Garden
I opened my eyes while lying on my back, looking at the blurry white textured images on the ceiling. I turned my head to the blurry image of a pole with a hanging bag of clear fluid. A connecting tube from the bag led to my arm where a needle was lodged into my arm. I hear the sound of a steady whooshing of air from my CPAP device with the mask that enveloped my nose and mouth. I took off my mask and clumsily reached where I thought my spectacles were and as I donned them, Ahh, that's better.
I saw the time of the morning and still instinctively reached for her. She wasn't there, but in lieu was a body pillow. It's the best I can do to satisfy my mind and body. Since my mourning, I had no desire to explore a new world outside the safe and familiar confines of my home, and my garden. Our adult children were leading their own lives of producing for themselves and society. I look forward to speaking with them for anytime they can spare...anything to elevate my thoughts to the remembrance of my former self rather than thinking of my diminishing and ailing health. My present condition challenged my confidence of allowing me to reacquaint myself with the burning sensations of new love, and intimacy. I lived most of my days in seclusion, with a notable exception.
My nurse let herself into my room carrying a tray of what appears to be breakfast and daily medicines. She was dressed in plain clothes, jeans with sweater vest and printed blouse. I recommended her attire to blend in as a guest, and preferably even family member. But a semi strict demeanor, and a cordial but cool approach, she is a true professional to her practice therefore her designation as Guest at this time is more appropriate. She laid the tray on the table and reminded me of the medicines in which i sheepishly replied in the affirmative. She observed the intravenous device I was attached and watched me ingesting the medicines with cranberry juice. Then there was a dry toast with blueberry jam, egg whites. After observing me to her satisfaction, she bid me “see you later†and left my room and proceeded to leave until the afternoon to check on me.
I wheeled my IV device toward the window and picked up my toast and juice and walked to my window to view my garden, in its unfortunate state. Once full of life, lushy greens, and a full armada of of vibrant colors of Roses, blooming, sprawling with less regard unrestrained has been overtaken by the honeysuckle. Halls Haliana it's proper name, I oftimes wanted to kill it, but the weed had a very distinctive sweet fragrance that enhances the aromatic smells of the roses. It needed constant cutting back of the which i was unable to do, I gave into the weed...as the General concedes his soldiers and province to the conqueror. The trials of my roses, hydrangeas and other perennials ended in eternal captivity, forever melding with the honeysuckle weeds DNA being rewritten.
But i still am in love with my garden despite the reckless abandoned and unseemly growths of unrecognizable wild flowers. They are among God creative plans and genius, and though I saw clashes in the design I am forced by my love of my garden to give into what is to become.. I often wondered if love can overcome the weeds, in the same manner that we can be loved despite our imperfections.
