Earth Lessons
Image by Yan Krukau from Pexels
**Content warning: Grandparent death.**
Edith loved the earth at an early age. Growing up on the farm, she learned to till and plant the earth when she was three years old. She planted seeds in the ground alongside her mother and covered them for their warm sleep to help them grow.
She learned that seeds needed sunshine and water to grow and rich soil to thrive. She often thought of her family as her fertile soil. They had helped her to thrive.
“Remember, Charlie, the seeds have to be about one thumb apart.”
“Why, Grandma?” asked the three-year-old. “Don’t they like each other? The seeds don’t look mean.”
“No, honey. They need room for their roots to grow. Their roots grow underground, and they search for nutrients in the soil to help the plants grow.”
“Nutrients are food.”
The red curls on his head nodded to remind his grandma it was what she had told him the day before. Edith reached over to tousle his hair and thought what a smart boy he was. He might grow up to love the soil and the plants that grow in it just as she did.
As her fingers dipped into the warm dirt, she prattled on to Charlie, making him laugh with her stories about the different plants and her silly jokes that no one else cared to hear. One of the great things about Charlie is that he laughed, even if he didn’t know why it was funny.
It wasn’t the polite laughter of an adult, either. It was the melodic joy of a toddler being tickled under the arms. Charlie loved to laugh. Just a couple of years ago, he had been a mess of curls that would toddle up to her with arms thrown in the air, uttering his one-word command, “Tickle!”
She had always obliged and laughed along with him.
Even as he grew older, Edith loved that Charlie still enjoyed coming to her house to put seeds in the soil. It kept her from feeling so old.
“Grandma, we were learning about plants in school, and I got an ‘A’ on my quiz! You teach about plants way better than my teacher does,” said Charlie.
Edith was proud and even laughed when Charlie confided that he had told some of her jokes about plants to his friends, and they had laughed.
That would only last another couple of years, though. She knew the time would come when Charlie and his friends would roll their eyes at her jokes, just as his mother did.
For now, she would take it and revel in his words just as she revelled in the soil. Charlie’s company was good for her soul just as the soil was good for her plants.
Edith was not looking forward to the day someone had to tell Charlie that his grandma was ill. She had just found out that the cancer had started to grow in her breast.
Maybe it would be best if she were the one to tell him, but right now, she couldn’t even begin to think of a way. She supposed she would have to if no one has told him before the chemo makes her auburn curls fall out.
For now, she found solace in her plants, working in her garden, and spending time with Charlie. Those are the things that bring her the most joy. That hasn’t changed.
Her diagnosis has caused her to have some thoughts about her end-of-life wishes. She didn’t have a plan set for everything but she did know she wanted to be cremated and spread in her garden to become one with it.
Her garden is the second most special thing to her. The most special is Charlie. If she joins her garden, Charlie can continue to work with all their seeds and their rich soil and the silly little jokes no one else but they cared to hear. They could still work together.
One day after school, Charlie came up behind her, saying, “Grandma, I have no homework tonight. I came to work in the garden with you!”
Edith turned and gathered Charlie up in a hug. “You’re my favorite helper! You know how my garden grows, and you like my jokes.”
“Your jokes are awesome! They make my friends laugh.”
“I’m so glad,” Edith laughed.
“Let’s get started in the garden. What do we need to do today?”
“We need to weed.”
“Right. Get the bad plants out so we can keep the good plants from having a bad influence,” Charlie winked.
Edith grinned, hearing the little story she had told him years ago about why the little plants needed to be pulled from the garden. They worked together pulling the weeds diligently.
Suddenly, Edith felt an overwhelming wave of exhaustion. She tried to push through and continued pulling weed after weed until she passed out.
Charlie wasn’t sure what to do at first.
“Grandma! Grandma, wake up!”
Finally, Charlie grabbed Edith’s phone and dialed 9-1-1.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
“My grandma won’t wake up!”
“Has she been hurt?”
“No, we were just weeding the garden.”
The dispatcher continued to talk until Charlie heard the sirens announcing the arrival of the ambulance. Charlie began to cry as the men put his grandma in the ambulance. The fright was washing over him. What would he do without her?
Charlie called his mother, and she came to pick him up.
After arriving at the hospital, Charlie questioned his mother about the accident. She decided the time had come and told him about the breast cancer. Charlie wanted to know the when, where, why, and how long of it all.The only question she told him she didn’t know the answer to is how long. Only God knows that answer, she told him.
To their dismay, the doctor arrived shortly after with the answer. She died, and they could see her if they would like. Charlie told her he wanted some time alone with his grandmother. His mother wasn’t sure if it would be best for Charlie to see her, but then she saw the resilience in his eyes and obliged, lingering by the door while he walked in.
Gazing at her with all the adoration their years tilling the ground had fostered, Charlie spoke with the maturity of someone far older than himself.
“Don’t worry, Grandma. I will till the ground and plant the seeds one thumb apart. I will cover them for their sleep and love them like you did. I will pull the weeds so they aren’t a bad influence and do it all over every year until I have old curls, and I can teach my kids and grandkids.”
As he touched her face, he thought of all the lessons she taught him and all the love they had for each other. A solitary tear of thanks ran down his cheek and onto hers.
Enjoyed reading this? Try some of these other pieces from our other fabulous writers!
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Paula Frew
Transplanted from Ohio to Kentucky to be near her only daughter and three young grandsons, the author wrote her first poem in the fourth grade. She fell in love with the form and was first published in an anthology at fourteen. A battle with multiple sclerosis has caused her to find her home in a nursing home, where she has found time to craft her poetry as well as time to teach writing to other residents. She has been published in several literary magazines and anthologies, including Ohio Bards and The Walt Whitman Anthology.
You can find Paula on Facebook, Instagram, and X (formerly Twitter).
