(getting all post break up poeticy… )
I was sitting on the hill on my little patch of grass…. It was dry, wilted, burnt and browning. You could tell it needed tending just by looking. But it wasn’t just mine, it was ours.
To be honest I knew it needed care, not that you could tell. A green thumb isn’t something I possessed and rather than learn to garden, find a fertilizer, buy a garden zombie to add some life (or gnome as normal people might ) or just simply water the dying patch that surrounded me I accepted that my little grass lot, our grass menagerie, just wasn’t as green as others anymore.
I wanted it to be, I wanted to encourage the little sparks of growth I could see struggling through the dry brown mass we were sat on. I wished them to thrive, did nothing but dream. I left them be and pretty soon they wilted. I started to figure that my our just wasn’t doing their job. The our had decided I wasn’t doing mine.
I looked at other patches and thought “wow that grass looks greener, I wish could be on that side”… really I should have thought “how do I make my grass greener again?”. Breathed life back into our patch and said “ let’s make it grow, what must we do my our”
Eventually even the new growth stopped.
Soon enough I was on another patch on that “greener side” i’d seen. It should have felt fresh, that’s what I’d imagined, it felt tired and heavy instead. This “green on the other side” was grey and lifeless, not vibrant and glowing like I’d seen and dreamed of.
My other patch, the patch of our, lays brown and empty, now it’s “the other side”.
Wishing I could start again, that’s where I want be.
Break out the Butter, I’ll be back real soon
Today’s toast is served with a shot of wheat grass