Weeding

I thought I was doing alright coming home this afternoon. I’ve had a day that was pretty good, not too much depression or melancholy, managed to really throw myself into some work that needed to be done. Was looking forward to having a willing night at home alone until I arrived at home, and coming along the sidewalk by the side of the house, I remembered that the area where the azaleas now sit empty, was where earlier in the late spring or early summer we had weeded together when we got back from dinner. We were quiet and intent, only talking to figure out how to dispose of the refuse. G was so happy out there just pulling those weeds with ugly stalks a pretty, but tiny, flowers on them. It seemed the more that we pulled the more there was.

There was another day when we came home and G decided to stay outside and weed. I could’ve stayed with her, but I didn’t. I was hellbent on getting in the house and probably to something of no real importance. She was out there for maybe 30 minutes, and I bet she was happy. I wish I had gone out and helped, or at least looked out the window to see if she was happy. I know now that things were already starting to change then, but it seemed so simple and perfect that first day we pulled weeds. Perhaps our relationship needed more weeding. I don’t know. I thought I had learned to stop trying to figure out these things. But this afternoon, it all snook up on me, as I walked by that spot where we weeded together when the azaleas still had leaves on them, and the two giant oaks that shaded us while we were there pulling up the stalks still stood on the other side of the sidewalk.