by Leslie Coleman

Created on: May 30, 2008   Last Updated: June 09, 2008

It was another blistering Saturday afternoon listening to the children squeal excitement while splashing about in our backyard pool. I was lying on the sofa, where I had been spending all the evenings and weekends, crying over the pending divorce. From the sofa I could stare aimlessly outside - not unlike a coma patient. Yes, my mind darted about and my body shook at times, so riddled in fear, but clearly I was helpless to do much about it.

My gaze rested on the deck where a group of clay pots stood pathetically in the corner. For years I had kept a plethora of healthy, robust herbs growing in those pots. Like me, the parsley was wilting and lying on its side. The rosemary was dry and the tarragon had disappeared completely.

I jumped up off the sofa, following my feet outside. Shielding my swollen eyes from the sun, I yelled, "Who wants to go for burgers & shakes?" We all bathed, dressed and headed for our favorite burger joint. On the way home I made a surprise stop at the local nursery where the children anguished over which three herb starter plants to purchase. Three little children and nine little pots of herbs huddled at the counter. Feeling adventurous I added a tomato vine and cucumber plant to the order, along with some fresh potting mix.

Together we spent the remainder of the day busily potting our herbs and vegetables. "Don't forget to loosen the roots." I said aloud for everyone to hear, "That will help them stand up straighter and grow into strong, healthy plants."

Peaceful evenings followed as the children and I tended to our plants. We waited until three tomatoes had ripened so that all could "pick the first tomato" and once again our meals were laced with lovely aromas from our herb garden. Baked tarragon chicken, rosemary potatoes, crisp dill cumber salad, and a home-made ranch dressing (created from a potpourri of everyone's herbs) turned our evenings and lazy weekend afternoons into charming memories. The time spent planting, pinching, pruning, fertilizing, watering, chopping, and cooking restored our family unit. In the midst of it all we healed.

Years later, after the children had grown, I was listening to my oldest child chatter on about her childhood. As she reminisced about our family traditions I thought back to those neglected clay pots on that blistering hot day. I said, "Sweetie, promise that if your life ever takes a turn for the worse that you will remember our little garden. Sometimes we need to loosen the roots a little to help us stand up a little straighter, grow a little stronger and emerge much healthier in the end."

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