- Catharsis -
Every time I walked in or out of my home, there they were. Fire Bushes and Crown of Thorn shrubs against the white stucco of my house. My ex-mother-in-law planted them as a surprise twelve years ago. *
Of course, how could she have known that I dreamt of using the space for a jasmine trellis and sweet gardenia bushes. The decision was done. There they were. Ugly. Spiky. Twisted. (Insert all mother-in-law cliches and jokes here). *
I pleaded with my then husband to move them to plant my jasmine, but he insisted that they remain so as to spare his mother’s feelings. Years later, when the plants developed a fungus, which spread to anything I planted nearby, the plants were to remain. Even two years after my now ex-husband moved out, those plants stood there defiantly, no matter how I tried to kill them from above.
This morning, I dropped my daughter at school. As I pulled back into the driveway, a familiar sting of unworthiness. Fire and thorns with impenetrable roots and these useless hands that can’t kill them! Enough! *
I needed tools and support. So, my dear friend bought me a machete and sharpened it for my painful hands. I began hacking away. *
I am worthy of this space.
I deserve to be honored.
This is my home and I choose it.
Then I tied those stubborn, deep, resistant roots to the back of my truck and ripped them out one by one. *
I’m bruised, exhausted, and at peace.
The ground is bare now; raked clean and raw with possibility. A blank canvas, except for one plant. A climbing jasmine bush I planted just minutes ago.
Jasmine represents eternal love, hope, respect, and motherhood. This is my home and I choose to clear away my past to make room for love.
And so it is.
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