Milk & Honey Pt 2

 by Maryanna Gabriel 


...., but underneath the beige uniformity (inside and out, I might add) there lurked a darkness of formidable magnitude. It took the form of The Committee and little did I understand what was coming.

One Sunday, yes, Sunday, they arrived at 9:00 in the morning on the dot, with shears in hand. The Committee went after the shrubberies out front.

In my nightgown I watched in horror. "Watch out for the Dahlias!" I cried. 

Taking steps to protect my secret garden. 

They hacked and hewed and sheared lovely old things, some of which took decades to grow. The more magnificent were hauled to their death. Slowly, the yard was denuded as I helplessly stood aside.

Word got out about my secret garden and, in fear, I stopped inviting people over. You see, deep down, I was not a beige person. Independent thinking was not welcome. People began to stare. 

A trusted friend who came often for tea loved my palm. She told The Committee about it and demanded one for herself. 

Alarmed by this turn of events, I drove an hour to a Windmill Palm Breeder, a difficult accomplishment, thinking this would put an end to such protracted envy and gave one to her. My friend placed it in a pot on the remaining dirt the committee had left by her door knowing putting her new palm in the ground would endanger it. 

Maybe now, I thought, all would be put to rest and Windmill Palm and I could live forever ever after in peace. But no. One chlorophyll sacrifice was not enough.