When Cowboy Fish was growing up, he used to go over to his grandmother’s house after school, on weekends, and during school vacations to spend time with her while Mama was at work and Dad was away on a ship or at the track. His grandmother had the most wonderful garden. He loved going out back, looking at all the different vegetable plants, and watching them grow. For Cowboy Fish, gardening was magic. A tiny seed grew the most marvelous green plant, and that plant grew new food. He did not quite understand how it worked, but he knew it did. He wanted his own garden.
When Mama picked him and Poopsie up one day in early June, he asked if she would stop by the hardware store on the way home. He had been saving the bits of money from birthdays and working small tasks in the neighborhood. He finally knew what to spend his money on.
When they got to the store, Cowboy Fish excitedly looked around the different aisles for the garden section. He found it. It was full of all kinds of seeds, plant food, watering cans, and other stuff he had never seen before. He went to pick out the seeds. He chose bell peppers, lettuce, spinach, squash, tomatoes, and green beans. Then he picked the best watering can: metal and royal blue, and a bag of compost. After everything was rung up, he knew he would have to use all his money.
“Are you sure you want to spend your money on this Cowboy?” Mama asked.
“Oh, yes, Mama. I want my own backyard magic.” He answered.
He gave the cashier his handful of small bills and coins, took his seeds and watering can (Mama carried the compost for him), and walked back to the car. The whole ride home, all he could do was daydream about his fantastic garden. He imagined pepper plants that were four feet tall and bustling with fruit, squash plants with vines as long as telephone poles, and poles of bright, long green beans. His family would be so proud of him, he thought. And he would be able to feed them fresh vegetables.
When they arrived home, Cowboy Fish carried everything to the backyard and started to plan. When he felt ready to start making the rows, he realized he had forgotten the shovel, so he had to run down to the basement to get his family’s old, rusted one. He began by loosening up the soil, then he formed the long rows. When that was done, he opened the bag of compost and spread it over the soil where the plants would grow. After that, he sowed his seeds; each type got its own row. He filled up his watering can and moistened all the soil, then stepped back to admire his work.
“Mama! Mama!.” He exclaimed, running back inside. “I planted everything.”
“That’s great. Now you need to make sure to take very good care of your plants so that they can grow strong.” She advised.
“I will.” Cowboy Fish declared.
And he did. Over the course of a month, he watched his work sprout and flourish into young leafy vegetable plants. He loved looking at all of them, pulling out the weeds, and checking the young leaves for good health. He would lie on the ground and look at all the little critters his plants attracted. Wiggly earthworms, weird stink bugs, creepy centipedes, and lots of lovely pollinators all gathered around to witness the magic.
His friends in the neighborhood, like Nate and Rusty, would say nice things like “that’s awesome!” or “wow, I like your garden!” and Cowboy Fish would tell them he’d share his vegetables with them. Other kids who lived on the block would call him names and make fun of his garden. They thought gardening was just for grandmas. All Cowboy Fish would say was “wait and see.” He knew he had something special and that soon he would be enjoying his bounty.
He took such good care of his plants and was so excited that he talked about them almost every evening at the dinner table. He talked about how well his plants were growing, what he was going to do to support them, how he solved each problem that came along, and so on. He could tell that they were probably getting a little sick of hearing about it, but they never said so. They likely were able to see how happy it made him and did not want to impede his joy.
Another week went by, and Cowboy Fish was ready to check on his growing achievement. He got up from bed, got dressed, and ran outside. He was devastated.
The other kids in his neighborhood had destroyed his garden. His heart sank like a heavy stone in water, and his mouth hung open. He went to look closer. His plants were torn up, stomped on; not a single one was left growing. He almost felt sick. Tears ran down his face before he knew he was crying. The loss felt tremendous. He went inside the house and into his room to lie down and give his legs a break from holding the dead weight. He thought of all the work he had put into building his garden, all the money he spent on it, and how all of his little plants were gone now. He was crushed. He had dedicated weeks of his summer, several hours a week, to caring for his little vegetable plants, and in one night, it was completely gone.
Mama must have heard him cry because she came into his room, confused, and sat next to him on his bed.
“What happened, my dear?” She asked softly.
“They…they…” It was hard for him to get the words out. “They destroyed my garden.”
Mama did not talk right away. She knew how much this garden had meant to him and wanted to let him mourn the loss of his work. Many would not understand how this could be so devastating. But in this neighborhood, one could have little of their own. It was a tough block, and there were hard things one had to deal with living there.
“Oh, I am so sorry, Cowboy. I know that garden meant a lot to you.” She said, rubbing his back.
“Why would they do that ?” He asked.
Mama thought for a moment. She knew the answer, but was not sure if Cowboy Fish was old enough to hear it. This part of the lesson was the hardest.
“Sometimes, when other people don’t have much of their own, they want to destroy and take from others.” She said.
“But why?” He countered.
“I think it’s so they don’t have to suffer alone. That’s the hardest part, feeling sad all alone.” She answered.
“I just worked so hard on my garden, though.” He said quietly.
“I know, and I am so very proud of you. There will be another time, though, when you can have a garden, someplace where nobody will hurt it.” She replied.
“I’m just so mad! I hate those stupid guys!” He growled.
“Now Cowboy, you can let that devil out, but understand this: those boys probably don’t got nothing of their own, and that doesn’t excuse what they did, but they’re suffering, and they’re kids just like you. It’s sad. People don’t live in this neighborhood if they got money for nice things. Your garden probably made them feel something they didn’t want to feel, and they acted out because the havn’t learned any better.” She said this softly but with a stern voice.
“I still hate them.” He replied.
“No. You don’t have to like them, but you gotta forgive them. Hating them will bring you just as far down as it brings them. You understand?” She looked at him with the eyes of a mom.
“Yes, Mama.” Cowboy Fish was reluctant, but he meant it.
Cowboy Fish was still sad, but he decided to think about his future garden and all the amazing things he would grow. And he would try to forgive.
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