Growing Things

So I was going to write about gardening, and springtime, and my childhood gardens, and the way my parents looked kneeling in the dirt, weeding and planting together when I was very small, and the smell and the feel of soil, the satisfaction of digging with your hands in it, so I wrote the title, and then realized I could barely keep my head up as I am so tired tonight.

So instead I will tell you a very brief story from earlier this evening, which--in a satisfying way--can keep my original title.

I was putting Lily to bed when she started to fake-whimper, and I rolled my eyes and said, "What is it. What's the problem."

"I've been having a very scary dream," she said, looking at me sideways to gauge if I was taking her seriously. I wasn't. As far as I can tell, Lily isn't scared of very much.

"Mmmm," I murmured. "About what?"

"I have it all the time, every seven minutes. It's about a bear, a very scary bear." I ignored the "seven minute" thing; she's trying to figure out time. The day before she'd told me she'd been at school for 57 hours. Instead, I tried to think of famous bears.

"Bears aren't scary," I said, finally arriving at two. "Think about Winnie the Pooh. Or Little Bear."

"This one is very, very scary," she said. "And in my dream he wants to cook a little girl and her mother." She was grinning a little in spite of herself. Okay. That's legitimately scary. But I have a keen nose for stalling techniques, as a former master of the art, and I had a strong hunch this dream had been conjured up on the spot.

"Here's my plan," I said. "When you have the dream, in your sleep, tell yourself: Lily, this is only a dream. I'm not awake, it's not real. It's just my imagination." She considered this.

"In my sleep, right?" I nodded vigorously.

"Yes. When you are fast asleep."

"Have you ever done this?"

"All the time," I fudged. I must have, right? Although I haven't had enough deep sleep for nightmares in a number of years. She agreed to try. I kissed her good-night and closed the door behind me and went to my computer. About ten minutes later I heard a voice from her bedroom.

"Mama!"

"Yes, Lily," I said, wearily.

"Thank you so much! I tried it, and guess what? It worked! It worked in my sleep! I'm fast asleep right now! Great, great idea, Mama."

Good-night, Lily. Thank you for being four. Thank you for being you.