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April 2015, vol 11 no 1

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Mary Ahearn

To the Garden


Something's different today. As I walk into her room, she takes my hand and says, "Let's go outside today, out to the little garden." This is what I've been waiting for. It's been a long time. Offers to take a walk, see the grounds, had all been firmly rejected. Today she's ready.

Quickly finding a favorite sweater, sunglasses, tissues, and hat, we slowly walk down the hall to the elevator. She smiles, holds my arm tightly, and off we go through the corridors to the small garden with many benches, and smooth paths. Nana looks around, nodding as I go on about the flowers. Soon her gardener's eye takes stock, noting what should be done. Those day lilies need dividing, the hostas too. The shrubs could use a pruning. And then – "My iris garden, the borders, the old catalpa tree… do you remember?" I do. I always will.

wood violet
scent of rain
before it comes


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