Humility Blooms in my Garden

It's early morning; at least an hour before clarity arises and a quarter-past good sense, as I recall.

Politely, I stand aside, as my mind and body engage in heated argument over whether or not morning has actually arrived. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, my mind concedes to mornings' urgent arrival and begins to turn once again...stubbornly, and on its' own terms.

I find myself at the train station; although, I'm still a little hazy regarding those details. motivating forward, more out of habit than cognition, I board the train clutching my morning brew to my bosom, fumble for my ticket and take a seat. As an afterthought, I check to be certain that the seat was actually unoccupied before I sat myself down. Pleased with myself for thinking of this; and, even more pleased to find that, currently, I was the only occupant. Peril was the theme song of my morning. Earlier, I watched myself dress for the day in the third person; a kind of autopilot that often ends badly (but, that is a story for another day).

I'm headed to the outer reaches of civilization to help my mother divide perennials in her garden. She and I share a deep love of the garden. Smitten since my very first mud pie, I'm looking forward to our day playing in the dirt. So is Mom; she has assembled the tools and a plan. Mom is nearing 80 yet, somehow, remains younger than me. A mystery you would understand, if you saw her skipping through garden chores like a sprite on steroids. By late afternoon, there was a need to drive a stake just to determine that I was still moving forward. Meanwhile, "the sprite" and her jet-propelled wheelbarrow circled me wildly replanting shasta daisies...show off.

Evening found me back on the train, headed home to the city. Gartefully, I sank back in my seat and into a great book. Lounging contentedly, enjoying the hour+ ride home.

Comedy Enters (Stage Left)

When we arrived at the station, guess who couldn't rise from her seat?! Try as I might, I was stuck....one with the seat, a prisoner of limbs now frozen in place. Solid; an ironic tribute to garden sculpture. My first thought,"I can't live here...it's not a dining car". Apparently, only my body was paralyzed. My mind, still fluid, had survival as its priority.

As last resort, the Conductor had to give me a boost...And, the ultimate humiliation is complete.