As a kid I didn't get it. Mom and Dad would head out to the garden as if they were going somewhere exciting. They would comment on the various vegetable's progress and then try to get us to enjoy helping. We didn't bite. But we sure enjoyed the fresh squash and onions, black eyed peas, tomatoes and peppers. I remember plucking tomatoes off the vine and eating them like apples.
Today I drove into the driveway of my childhood home. The gardens are green with rows of peas, okra, tomatoes and squash. But this year is different. Dad didn't till the garden- Mom paid someone. Half of the team is missing. The emptiness is palpable; the longing for his presence in that moment indescribable.
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