35 - Kathleen
This morning, for the first time in umpteen years, I took the day off.
Off meaning, in my case, sitting on the back porch and looking as my protégée weeded the back garden with an energy I couldn’t summon. Maeve was getting better and better, but I still feared when she tackled the bigger man-sized weeds.
Her tiny hands maneuvered the spade like a pro, leveraging her strength into pure force to topple the thing she called Hogweed.
Maeve leaned on the spade. I heard a thick crunch of roots, and the tall straight weed dropped like a tin soldier.
I should have done all that sooner. That clump of giant weeds had grown from a small, bad-tempered thing that I had neglected. But, getting no visit, living alone, the impetus to keep a straight house and garden had dwindled away.
