Member-only story
Sudden and Sadistic
I did it again.
In the settled September air
I pulled it out. Grabbed it with a good strong grasp by its long green neck and yanked…hard.
I did it without thinking, it had been troubling me and taunting me for weeks every time I passed by. Its newness to the garden was too wild, too out of place. The other more established, more bountiful flowers and shrubs begged at me to clear the thing, the thing that crowded their well-made bed.
And so, the time came, and I did it. I slaughtered it, in the midday soil, sudden and sadistic. I stood with plant in dirty hand immediately recognizing the bulb at root, the life that could’ve been, the weed that was no weed at all. I tried to shake the sting of judging eyes that never passed.
You see, I plant bulbs in the ground and forget. I forget what they are, I forget where they are, I forget what they may turn out to be.
Over time they start to grow. Some don’t bloom, so I figure it must be a weed and…out it must come.
I killed it, again. What might’ve been. The beauty to be had, if I would’ve just let it grow.
Much gratitude for taking the time to read. Because of you, my words stay afloat. ❤
