The Garden in Lima (Letter tomy Mother IV)

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The Garden in Lima
(Letter to my Mother) IV

It’s been eight-months I’ve been away from Lima, I’m back now, was in the Andes, in the Mantaro Valley of Peru, and Cerro de Pasco, Miner country, and the highest city in the world. Our garden in Lima is like a jungle, so everyone tells me, and I suppose they are partly right, but I like little jungles. I don’t like folks caring for the garden, they step on the grass, break the branches, the flowers get destroyed, you know all that kind of stuff; no one really cares for another’s garden, no one at all. They all like to give advise on how to care for it, but when it comes to planting and replanting and watering, and cleaning, you know, all that kind of stuff, it is as if they are blind folded, they step on this and that, and pretend they don’t notice themselves doing it, and give you the evil eye, as if to say: I’m doing you a favor, stay back. So I don’t have anyone work in my garden, and when I am gone, they seem to survive better, better than if I had a caretaker taking care of them because I’ve been down that road, and its bumpy my friend. Anyhow, the birds came back yesterday, it was the second day back in Lima for me, and the butterflies came searching for a place to breath in this big city. It tells me something, they know the masters home, and they know things will get better, and they know they are welcome. One plant in the garden grew a half foot in three days; this is the third day, today. You see, with love and care, and telling the good for nothings to stay away, good things can happen.

#2131 1-1-2008