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Gardening Lessons: When to Pull the Volunteers

I was turning the bed, knife-deep in dirt when I felt it: that ache in the wrists from too much tending. And there she was again— not in the muscle, in the memory. Being her friend was like this: feeding a ghost with phantom limbs, never full, never proof enough. She wore collapse like a weather system borrowing against good nature, demanded every last bit of attention— prostration over a missed text, a misunderstanding— I miss her. Not that she'd ask, too committed to the bit: bad marriage. It’s a loss— how she wears his damage like it’s all that’s left of her. I loved that woman, but it forced me into the role of indentured meteorologist. It felt like violence. For my part in this, the reason it lasted so long is simple: I kept watering the weeds, drenching her with active listening. (The desire to be needed is intoxicating.) It's a mercy for us both that I didn’t get addicted. I hope you understand it wasn’t kindness, nurturing that climate— just the worst version of nice— kept her stuck, left me starved for reciprocity. I had to walk away before my spine bent to match her trellis. In light of today, tomorrow I’ll plant marigold and mint, lay down bone meal— small things that mind their own business. Anything to keep my hands full when the memory of her breaks through soil again.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 5/3/2025 7:43:00 AM
Dear Jaymee, I adore your creative use of language, imagery and metaphor creating a soul-baring emotional landscape that immerses the reader in your cascade of pulsing poetic artistry. So sadly beautiful in its thoughtful regret, active longing and reactive resolve to "plant marigold and mint, /lay down bone meal— /small things / that mind their own business." Your poetry blows me away! Congratulations for your success in Sara's contest. Warmest wishes my poet friend.. ~Susan
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Jaymee Thomas
Date: 5/4/2025 5:18:00 AM
It always makes me happy to see your smiling face in the comments, Susan. You're so thoughtful and encouraging - it makes me feel like a real poet. This piece took forever to write/edit/tweak trying to get the right tone, and trying to discover WHY I felt compelled to write about it. Not sure it's as successful as I'd hoped in that regard, but I love her anyway :) I hope you have the best day.
Date: 4/25/2025 3:01:00 PM
I get you, Jaymee, having tended a garden like yours. We can weed and nurture but when a crop overwaters itself there’s no preventing a bad harvest. Trading in the overalls does more than change the outward appearance. It makes us like the woman we use to be. Planting a garden that blooms is a healing balm.
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Jaymee Thomas
Date: 4/26/2025 10:01:00 AM
Thank you, Lin. Although I'm not sure anyone really gets anyone, we can sure get close sometimes. I appreciate you taking the time to read my work. I quite like a lot of yours as well. I should be a better community member and comment more often when it strikes me. Have a great weekend and thank you again :)

Book: Reflection on the Important Things