My Nanny used to make me go for a walk to ‘look at the garden’
I’d go begrudgingly
She would tuck her arms behind her back and lean over to look at the flowers
(As if it was important not to touch them, only to observe)
I didn’t want to be there
I wanted to find the kitten under the deck or imagine myself a witch’s apprentice
The flowers a sad second to the weeping willow I’d created in my mind
Im not proud I dismissed her efforts to share her hearts greatest love with me, then
But she and I did share Craft macaroni and cheese and homemade hush puppies
Although I still love kittens I don’t really search for them
But every time the flowers bloom I see her, before she disappears behind the brown-eyed Susans