Tuesday, January 13, 2009

100 Word Stories: A stroke of luck

I hate weeding.  Small weeding, the persistent stuff that you can never get rid of, onion weed and wandering jew, is no fun.  But Grandma’s vegetable garden, a single bed now when once it was an entire backyard, is one of her few pleasures.  So every week, I weed it.  She sits in a garden chair, behind the big old house that’s now a nursing home, and points out what I’ve missed.
But then we slice a fragrant tomato, warm from the sun, and I understand why it’s worth weeding, and why I’m lucky to still be fed by Gran.

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