TOMATOES

My tomato plants are actually growing even though they are planted in grass clippings. The pepper plant was mostly eaten by a rabbit or something but it is still alive. Tonight I planted an okra plant. I don't like okra and have no idea how to cook it but the plant looked so pitiful sitting there on the shelf at walmart.
I untangled the water hose and dragged it down the hill to the tomatoes, knocking over a pot of petunias, viciously attacking a rose bush, and messing up the rocks around the flower bed behind the house. The spot where the tomatoes are planted is a sink hole or maybe an old well. The grass clippings are from mowing and shooting the clippings into the hole. This is my garden.
I soaked all the plants, even the okra, pulled the grass clippings around them, adjusted the cages around the tomatoes and turned around to pull the hose back up the hill.
It was that time of day just before the sun sets, the gloaming. I looked up at the house. A few windows were lit, the rest dark. The light in the windows was soft and warm. The house was soft around the light, quiet. My life in this house passed before my eyes. I remembered everything all at once. All the nights I have spent here, mostly awake. All the books I have read. Laughing, crying, sad, happy. Food I have cooked, food I have eaten in the middle of the night. Worrying, pacing. Babies, wonderful babies. Cats, lots of cats. Waiting. Hurrying. Not dusting.
Home.