A BABY'S BREATH

As winter retired and spring opened tired eyes, there came a thaw, and with it a tiny seed. It impregnated itself in the midst of the herbs. Its careful germination went easily unnoticed by the Herb Gardener, whose mind lay in the future of his garden, rather than in its present state.

The fertile soil of the Rosemary harbored life, and the miraculous discovery helped her to grow as the days warmed and lengthened toward summer. The Rosemary accepted the roots of the weed, as they grew closer and closer to her own. There came an enormous sense of love in her weathered heart, as jubilant roots intertwined.

How extraordinary her joy at the new life. She shared the secret with Sage and Rue in the nearby beds of the herb garden. They too were pleased at the possibility of a beautiful addition to the Rosemary's plot. Their thoughts lay with the tiny weed, rather than the inattentive gardener.

Alas, came discovery by the gardener himself, and his need to remove the Baby's Breath lest it upset the planned scheme of things. He came in his spotless apron and gloves, with sterile pruning shears and a purpose. His careless grip plucked the life aside, to be forgotten and buried hurriedly away.

With the tearing of the weed's roots from her the Rosemary was deeply hurt, for the man had not taken care to see how closely the two had grown. Her former joy lay at her side, and she watched in desolation as it died in the harsh vacuum of air surrounding it. A part of her died as the life withered.

The tiny buds of the Baby's Breath would never blossom to bring its beauty to the garden of useful intentions. Never would it reach the rich November of having known life. Her mental anguish could not show itself, except in the limpness of her woody limbs, and the loss of her exceptional fragrance.

The Rosemary grew closer to the dried weed, because only in death could she be free of the plots and patterns. With the simple wish to regain the lost happiness of her cherished weed, she grew closer still. The Baby's Breath welcomed her, and their roots entwined once more.

Note for the curious: I wrote this for a friend of mine named Rosemary. I was Sage and Rue in the story...