all grown up

i planted my first garden: rows and rows of bright impatiens, lemon sage, yellow lemon thyme, basil and basil and basil. i feel like i have seven new boxes of children--i want them to grow and be in the sun and drink up rain. i find myself sneaking out between meals and chores to chat with my posies, to tell them to be strong and listen to the songs of robins and cardinals in love.

all my warm summer memories have my mother in her wide brim hat, watering her flowers, talking to them, sitting on the porch and enjoying their charm in the evening. she can make anything grow: she saved my african violet, she rescued my cactus, she coaxes zinnias as tall as your hips.


i will tell my flowers the story of my mother. i will tell them how high they can grow. i will tell them they are beautiful and smart. i will tell them why i can't sit on the porch in their glow without poking a few tears out the corners of my eyes.

the world is small

over the weekend (imagine how fast we can travel: blink an eye and everything changes) i sat on a bench in fell's point.

i sipped a lemonade, i watched the water riff and pull in the harbor, i laughed while henry smeared milk across his face, i melted into the blue expanse of sky and the yells of drunk graduates and the soft plucks of a twelve string guitar. i wasn't anywhere except inside myself when the woman next to me tugged on my arm. embarrassed, she handed me a tissue and asked me to wipe the white glob of pigeon dropping from her hair. i pulled at it over and over while we talked ... her accent tangled something inside of me.

she said she was from new york.
but i said, no, before that.
russia, she said.
my breath caught. where in russia? i asked.
southern russia, she said.
i must have laughed: the smallness of the world frightening me. which city? i asked.
she looked at me. a small city, she said, you wouldn't know.
which city? i asked again.
krasnodar, she said.

and i fell into laughter that reminded me of tears. the world shrinking us together.

[for a history of me and krasnodar: look here. i lived there. and loved people there. and lost myself there. and found myself. and ate lots and lots of magnum bars.]