Tomato Garden

My mother speaks about her garden.

My quiet sobs do not deter her,

My legs trembling in my bed sheets

As my hands pressed against my mouth

To keep from waking my dorm mate.

She continues to whisper of her newly sprouted

Tomatoes, her wish to have strawberries and

Greens by the time I came back home.

I cry and she talks through the phone at

Five in the morning until my fear abates and

My breaths wheeze with the tremors in my

Limbs and my eyes dry as the hard pain

In my head dulls and eases.

My breathing quiets and my mother

Pauses on the phone. She asks if I’m

Okay. I am. She asks if I feel better.

I do. She says she’ll call the neurologist

Later in the morning to tell them about

My relapse, that everything will be

Taken care of. She tells me to

Sleep and be at peace. I don’t doubt


I pull myself into a ball and close

My eyes, drifting off into dreams of small

tomatoes as she softly hums inside

My ear.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s