Forget-Me-Nots.

After a While

After a while you learn
The subtle difference between
Holding a hand and chaining a soul
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't always mean security.

And you begin to learn
That kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes ahead
With the grace of a woman
Not the grief of a child

And you learn
To build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is
Too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way
Of falling down in mid flight

After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much
So you plant your own garden
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers

And you learn
That you really can endure
That you are really strong
And you really do have worth
And you learn and you learn
With every good bye you learn.

A girlfriend had this on her fridge today; I''s read it before, somewhere - but I'd forgotten the impact it carries: today, of all days, I needed to be reminded of that. The weeding your own garden part? Sucks. Really really sucks. Especially if you have some of that horrendous hybrid bamboo that never seem to die, oh, sure, you think you've removed every last trace of it...only to find it reared it's ugly head when you weren't looking. Amid all those pretty flowers you planted yourself. Bamboo I've found, comes in three distinct kinds: the vertical, good luck kind, the spreading kind, but will stop at boundries, or, the Dreaded Hybrid, Which Eats Every Thing In It's Path, regardless of how often you illegally pour gasoline or oil on it; in trying to kill it, without digging it all the way out? All you've done is infect the entire garden you were trying to save in the first place, the end result being, perhaps, nothing will grow at all. Ever. Is very scary thought.

Today? I did some weeding, a smart, savvy gardener by my side, reminding me to keep digging, even when it hurts, even when the job is overwhelming, and so alone. Other flowers all vanished, even the seemingly sturdy ones that swore they'd hang on - oh, they stayed long enough to see the crime-scene-tape put up, the EPA warnings, gawked and stared - found prettier gardens, to bloom in.

At the edge of the garden now? Only a hand full of Forget- Me-Nots courageously stand guard. I've always loved Forget-Me-Nots, partly for their name, and partly because in the 1800s, getting a packet of these seeds was akin to knowing you were growing a relationship, from the ground up, together.

I've always loved roses, gorgeous flashy blooms, bursting with colors - but truly? They're a LOT of work. Require constant care, extensively thorny.......they die very quickly, need loads of alone time - really, the blooms off that rose. I've only the withered stump to remove, and someday, (soon most likely) I'll be annoyed enough, or strong enough, to haul that sucker out of the ground. I'll finish off the Dreaded Bamboo, which sadly, one cannot use any large machinery on - you run the risk of missing one tiny piece, only to find the process begins anew - so you weed by hand.

In the midst of this hole, where the bamboo keeps growing, withered stalks of old flowers, brambles and chooking weeds accumulate; I've given up trying to revive the twisted stems, the curled in leaves; I've let the Venus Fly Trap (and you know who she is) completely be eaten by the bamboo - getting rid of two, for the work of one! I can still look up, towards the very edge, and there they are.

My handful of faithful Forget-Me-Nots.

I'll take them over flashy blooms, any day of the week. They may be slow to reproduce, but their roots run deep; far beyond the thorny roses, flashy fat lilies, nasty Venus Fly Traps - even, the Dreaded Toxic Bamboo.

Every garden, should start with Forget-Me-Nots.

Lucky for me?

Mine already does.