Posted June 6th, 2004 by Michelle

I planted a garden today. My yard is just awful, in a way, filled with dried goopy grass and, I found out, a million tree roots, and it seems as though nothing wants to grow. So I spent a few hours tilling a 5 X 5 spot, splitting the dried earth and snapping the roots. I have a humungous tree in my yard, one that no one yet has been able to identify, and the root system stretches past my yard and into my neighbor’s. Every time I snapped a root, I smiled sheepishly up into the towering tree. “We have to coexist here, and you seem to have plenty of space,” I thought. “Why don’t you give me just this little patch?” So after several long hours of hard labor, I now have four different kinds of heirloom tomatoes, two kinds of squash, butterleaf lettuce, sage, basil, parsley, chives, and dill. They are half in the ground and half in planters and I dearly hope they don’t die.

I am sitting in my new writing studio, composing my first blog ever from my new home. The late afternoon sun is gilding the leaves on the trees that surround this property and Fezzik, my 12-year-old cat, is sitting in the window. He hasn’t stopped purring since he moved here, except for when strangers have entered the house and he’s run under the bed. I’m pretty sure he’s purring under there, too. My mom was here all day yesterday and this morning and she helped me plot out the garden. The most perfect breeze is blowing into my house, I have a garden and a cat and a family and yet I’ve been so sad today.

I’ve not ever been good at sitting with grief, but today I’m wondering why I have to. Isn’t is possible to just see that what you had was wonderful, and to know that someday it will all be good yet again? I guess two big blows in one week- one financial and the other emotional- is ample reason to not feel ducky. And tomorrow I will go stand up for myself in the most diplomatic but powerful way possible, and there is a slim chance in hell that the job will still work out. Doubtful, but I guess it’s possible.

I called my baker today and left him a message that was much braver than I feel right now. Here is what I’d really like to tell him:

I planted a garden today that you will never see. You will never cook for me from this garden. That is so strange, that you were here, and you will never be here in this spot again. When you were here, the valley seemed larger, somehow. You pushed the mountains and stretched the valley until it felt vast, and wonderful, and filled with things to see. Even my new home expanded, big enough to fit the two of us. Now that you are gone, the mountains have returned to close me in. I almost want you to stop calling me, because in the hours between I start to get my life back and then you call and it halts my momentum. I am not heartbroken, or devastated, or even very sad, really. I just loved having you around. It’s so quiet without you here.

You will move on, quickly even. Believe me. You may be enlightened beyond your years but I have almost a decade of actual living on you and I know far better what will happen. You will move on and I will move on and we will both find people better suited to us. You even know this is true. You will find a woman with a little more bohemian left in her, and I will find a man who would be willing to plant a garden because he’ll be around long enough to see it bear fruit. We were in no way perfect for each other, but we were good for each other. There is every chance our paths will cross again- god knows we’ve been in enough places at the same time before even meeting. But until then, get the hell out of here, out of this country, and go find what you are looking for. I know you won’t forget me.

And, ladies and gentlemen, hopefully that closes the blogging chapter entitled “The Baker”. Next week, look for “What To Do When Offered Far Less Money Than You’re Worth”. I’m hoping that’s the blog I’ll be able to write, as opposed to “What NOT To Do…” Also, “Is DIRECTV Worth It When All You Do Is Listen To Music On Your TV?” and other scintillating topics. At least I won’t be whining about my former man.