Giving back

He was shot in the head ten years ago.
Today he is pulling weeds from the tangled beds.
He is sifting compost with strong arms, strong back.
He is clearing pathways and unearthing wilting chard to be turned into soil.
He is grasping a trowel and bucket in his hands and marching through the farm saying to no one in particular and the world, "Yehaw! I am giving back! I'm doing something! Finally!"
After ten years of recovery, disability leave, short term memory loss and frustration, he is getting involved, getting active in his community, giving instead of taking, he says.
I tear up and laugh and smile, thankful for sunglasses to hide damp eyes.

He, and everyone else who has a story (of healing, memories, love- so yeah, everyone), that is why I'm here. We grow, we learn, we take bites of nectarines and give back our time and sweat. The line blurs and it is unclear whom is giving back to whom and it is a wonderful feeling to be in that blurry symbiotic space.

We can heal in the fellowship of the dirt.