Dragons in the Garden

Believing in things that are hard to believe in is the most important part of life. That’s what my mother told me once when I was very young. I don’t remember everything from my early years, but I can’t forget what my mother told me one spring morning in Knox County, Ohio, when I was seven years old.

I remember my mother as a writer. She, having a quiet nature, always at her writing table at the end of day; I remember her beautiful dark eyes which were so often sad. What made her truly happy though was the land in which we called home: A golden valley of cornfields guarded by a wall of an oak and pine forest that masqueraded in perfect colors in the autumn. This was our small piece of the world in which we toiled daily. But what is especially important about our home, were not the fields, nor the woods, nor the bungalow farmhouse where we slept. What was important was a curiously placed garden that bordered our home and the golden fields.
It was about ten meters wide and twelve meters long and surrounded by a moss covered brick wall. The only entrance to the garden for a young girl was an arch gate that mother always left unlocked. My favorite part of the garden was a marble fountain standing in the center of the vegetation; it had no running water but it was still beautiful with an enclave of plant life growing around it. It was in this garden where my mother told me of wonderful magical things, how the plants grew, when they were to be picked. And of course, she told me of the dragons that would soon come to visit me in this special little garden.
Mother and I worked tirelessly in the garden. It was the most beautiful garden in Knox County. Mother used her thin soft hands to till the soil, so when she touched me it felt like velvet. I sowed the seeds and distributed the water. This garden was life; it was creation, she and I were gods over this land. We were indeed benevolent as we loved very much this garden.
“Come here darling and taste these strawberries,” mother called to me. I hurried to taste the fresh fruit.
“It tastes wonderful mommy!” I said this with red juice running down my chin.
“Just wait, a few more weeks and they’ll be even bigger and juicier. Now, take this fertilizer and fill it in front of the north wall, I think we’ll have carrots this summer.” She said this while gazing into the sky; her eyes were tired and sunken.
“Can you help mommy?” I asked with pouty lips.”
“Mommy is tired and needs her rest; you’re a big girl now, don’t sow the seeds to deep.” And with that bit of instruction she retired to the home. I would continue in the garden until nightfall when the garden and I began our dreams.

Each morning began with me stumbling out of bed; the smell of coffee and eggs permeating the house. Mother is at her writing table, tapping away at an old typewriter while I begin breakfast. “Can we play in the creek today mommy?” I asked. She stopped typing and stared outside a window in the direction of the woods.
“Mommy isn’t feeling well this morning babe.” She continued to gaze outside. I played with my barely touched eggs.
“Are we going to work in the garden mommy?” I asked this much like a puppy asks its mother for more milk.” She turned to me.
“You can do that. Yes, you can pick the remaining onions and till the soil on the east end.” I looked away from her. “You can make it so beautiful……so beautiful, like you darling.” Her words were lost on me. I continued to look down on my food; her eyes were still on me. “I haven’t told you what happens when all the strawberries have ripened have I?” I didn’t respond. “Oh well, I must’ve forgotten, I haven’t grown them since I was your age but they’re particularly delicious strawberries that dragons love to eat.”
I was half listening until the end when I straightened up in my chair and looked at her with gleaming eyes. “Oh yes, the dragons will come to eat the strawberries, they love them very much. They travel the world searching for gardens with ripe, juicy ones. When they find one, they’ll bring the gardener a wonderful gift.” I listened intently, this time with mouth open. “How do I know you wonder? The dragons visited this very garden some years ago. They were so pleased with my strawberries and I promised I will grow them again someday.”
“But what did they bring you?” I asked with anticipation.
“I will tell you someday,” she said with a smile, I had not seen her smile for a long time. “Run along babe, the dragons are waiting.” Before she could finish her words I was off to the golden fields, passing through the gate to the garden and the end of my childhood.

Several weeks had passed and the strawberries I planted were now a bed of green bulbs. There is a beauty about them, about the entire garden when it is young, the struggle of growth beyond their beginnings. Not all would survive the harsh rains and cruel winds. But when they do mature, it’s as if they could talk. Do they wonder why the others didn’t survive? Do they question the hands, the universe that brought them into existence? Sometimes I feel like I am the garden and the garden is me.
Mother has been helping me less frequently in the garden. She is off at her writing table most often. I’ve grown accustomed to labor; my hands are dry and cracked from the ground. “The garden is starting to bloom mommy,” I tell her by her bedside.
“I’m proud of you babe, so proud of you.” She lies in bed with blankets pulled up to her neck. Her upper lip is moist and her eyes, half closed ready for sleep.
“Mommy, will the dragons really come soon?” I asked, crawling in the bed beside her.
“Of course sweetheart, you have to believe. Believing in things that are hard to believe in is the most important part of life. The dragons will come sweetheart, the dragons will come.” I adjusted myself next to her so that she could turn on her side.
“Mommy, why are we alone?” She remained quite. She twitched slightly as if cold.
“We’re alone because growing up is hard. Scary things happen and people aren’t always brave, so they runaway.” She turned on her side to face me with stark eyes and wet streaks lining her face. “You mustn’t rely on anyone in life sweetheart, do you understand?” I nodded my head. “You can only rely on yourself, yourself and the garden. You plant a seed in soil and lightly water it. Then, the sun will rise and the sun will set and in that time, a flower will grow. Nothing will ever change that sweetheart.”
We looked at each other for a moment; she drew her face toward mine and kissed me on the nose. Mother closed her eyes, began to breathe softly; her upper lip was dry now. “Mommy, what did the dragons bring you?” I asked much like a puppy would. Her eyes remained closed.
“They brought me you darling, the dragons brought me a wonderful gift and it was you.” In the living room, the fire crackled. Outside the woods were whistling as the wind passed through their leaves. The bed was warm and my mother and I quickly fell asleep.

It was well into summer and the entire garden was in full bloom and vibrant with colors. It smelled like a department store and looked like a rainbow that had melted on to the surface of the earth. The strawberries were ripe and plump, bursting with red juices and a sensational flavor. But the dragons still, had not come.
Perhaps I did not plant enough seeds? Perhaps they are not tasty enough for a dragon’s pallet? My hopes were steadily diminishing. My mother had increasingly become despondent and would take to long naps in her bedroom. The air was hot, the forests were teeming with sharp, sticky things that caused great difficulty for a young girl to search for any timid dragons too shy to venture out and taste fresh garden fruit gleaming in the sun.
I invoked the spirits of the forest the only way a seven year old could; by marching noisily along the trails and whispering, “Please dragons, please come…….please, mommy needs help.” But the forest and the garden remained devoid of large winged creatures. Despite this, I pressed on, hoping to find some cause for the absence of the dragons. The woods were thick and heavy; every step I took produced a crunch from the underbrush below my feet, which gave me away to any life beyond the wooded vale not wishing to be found.
The path I was on led to a creek that flowed through cornfields that belonged to the Amish. These lands were vast and full of steep hills; I could not go far. I continued though, on my rocky trail when something peculiar along the path caught my eye. It was a dark metallic object sitting nonchalantly with no apparent purpose or relation to any other piece of earth around us. As I bent low to examine it further, a powerful gust of wind emerged from the woods that nearly knocked me off my feet. The trees began dancing rhythmically with the wind, the summer heat seemed to intensify and I became afraid.
As I stood in place, a distinct sound of movement arose from the dense woods directly in front of me. I remained quiet, and still, my body in tune with the earth; footsteps now, moving towards me from the bush, slow but prominent enough so that the birds were relocating from the sound. I remained so quiet, save for my heartbeat pulsating against my ear so violently, I was sure everything else in the forest could hear it as well.
“Grrrrumph………,” said the forest.
“Dra………Dragon…….,” I responded faintly through chattering teeth.
“Humph…………….Grumphhh,” the forest said again, this time much louder. It was all I needed to burst out from my position and sprint away to the end of the woods.
My heart was still beating, almost painfully against my chest; sweat, dripping onto my eyelids and stinging my eyes. But I did not wipe my face, I did not look back, I just ran and ran. The forest became a green blur in my peripheral. My shoes were caked in mud, my face and hair blotched with dirt from the leaves smacking my face as I rushed past them. Surely anybody or anything watching me would have thought I was mad. I did not care, the dragons had come; the dragons had finally come.
“The dragons are here! The dragons are here!” I was yelling this despite my lack of breath. At this time I had reached the golden fields and was heading towards the garden. “The dragons, everybody the dragons are here!” I entered the garden through the north gate and without a thought, grabbed a handful of strawberries from their vines and squished them into my pocket. I have to tell mom, I thought. She has to see what the dragons will bring me.
I left the garden with strawberry juice running down my shorts. The sun was beginning its decline behind the mountains and the forest would soon become hidden under its shadow. But the dragons would be there, they would wait for mom and me. I burst into the house with a loud slam from the door; it was warm inside and quiet. “Mommy, the dragons are here…….Mommy!” She was not at her writing table, perhaps the bedroom. “Mommy the dragons are here………Mo-” I do not know why this memory is not as transparent as the others, but what I saw here remains only as faint images, like looking through water: My mother, lying in bed with barely her eyes open, A tall man standing over her in a long white coat with a black case in one hand and metal things in his other hand; he looked at me only briefly.
“I’m so proud of you baby.” Her voice is a whisper, “My beautiful baby……so proud of you.” I turned out of the room and outside to the garden where the woods were all but completely gone beneath the darkness. I looked upward towards the stars only just now coming into view, with their bright twinkling, faded in the black sky; And what of this universe? I would ask myself years later. What do the galaxies and planets think of people down here? I feel the squished strawberries still in my pocket and gaze upon the woods once more. “Do I believe? Can I believe?”

The funeral lasted it seemed, forever. A church I have never been to, people I have never met, filling the house with all manner of reminiscence and anecdotes I did not quite understand. I hated my clothes; my dress, shoes, even the socks, all the same color and uncomfortable on my skin. I was feeling choked, I needed to leave.
I took a deep breath as the outside air enveloped me in a liberating coolness. I was free from these people, but what to do now. I hadn’t been in the garden in weeks and all I could think to do with it was destroy it. It was a sad garden; untouched and drifting away in the breeze. The colors from the flowers were stale and dull, the plants parched and hunched over like old men. And the strawberries, the strawberries were still ripe and wonderful. I hated the strawberries. I never want to grow them, eat them, or feel them in my hands again.
I began to uproot them one by one, crushing them under my feet, the red juice soaking away into the soil. “Why didn’t you come?” I demanded as I lay waste to the plants. “Where are you stupid dragons?” I screamed this now with tears spewing from my eyes. I hated them; I hated the world and everything in it. “Why did she have to die? Why did mom have to die when the garden was pretty?” I called now to the universe, but it would not answer. “Where is my mom?” I called now to the dragons, but they would not answer. “I want my mom back!” I called only to myself, but all I could do was slump down into the soil and weep. And this I did, when something very unusual caught my eye.
It was a small black granite stone simply resting on the ground near me with no apparent reason or purpose in the world to do so. Where did it come from? I wondered. It was at this moment, when all of a sudden, a brilliant force of wind pushed me back nearly toppling me over. Off in the distance, the forest began dancing and swaying with the wind. A sound of rustling and movement came from outside the garden wall.
I stood back up, I was not afraid, not this time. The wind continued to whistle in my ear, I steadily moved toward the gate, the sound of large footsteps grew louder. I crept closer and closer still to the outside world when suddenly the gate swung open. “Oh I’m sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,” said the stranger. “Uh…are you Emily?” I did not respond, nor did I stop staring at him. He was of average height and slim. Despite carrying himself awkwardly, he had pleasant eyes that seemed somewhat familiar. “Emily, listen my name is – “
“Where are the dragons?” I interrupted.
“- I’m sorry, I didn’t understand.”
“-Where are the dragons? Mom said the dragons will come because of my garden and they haven’t come.” The tears did not stop; the stranger would know my sorrow.
“Okay Emily now listen, I’m your –“
“- Where are the dragons? Where are the dragons? Where –“
“-Please Emily, listen to me, I knew your mom and –“
“-She said they would come…….she said.” The tears were relentless now. The stranger and the world had been forgotten. “Why didn’t they come to help her? Why?”
“Emily, please I –“
“Why? Why? Why didn’t they come for the garden? Why? Why? W-“
“- Emily the dragons brought me here!” He said this boisterously and it brought me from my tantrum. “Yes……yes they brought me here, for you of course. I-I’m to take you back home with me.” He said this without changing his expression. All I could do was look at him with my red and tear streaked face, as if he himself was a dragon. He straightened his posture and returned the gaze. His expression was gentle when he spoke, “You have no idea how uncomfortable it is to fly on the back of one of those things.” My stern face melted away into a smile; and it was reciprocated.
He extended his hand, I reached out to take it, but not before I took one last look at the garden, this garden that brought dragons to Knox County, Ohio. I would never see the garden again; nor the golden fields, nor the dancing forest, but as I walked away from it all, hand in hand with my dad; I did believe in things that were impossible to believe in.

I am an adult now; I live far away from that small town in Ohio. I have lived such a beautiful life, full of happy things, complicated things. I have children of my own now; a boy and a girl, they are still very young. When I look upon my daughter, I am reminded of that little girl and her garden so many years ago.
Did I really believe dragons came to my farm and bring me my father that hot summer day? I suppose it doesn’t matter what I believe. Perhaps the most important thing was not in what I believed, but rather the redeeming power of the belief itself. It gave me a chance to go on, to grow up and live a life without her by my side. The stars it seems, had talked back to me. It spoke of the ways in which the seasons end and begin; it spoke of mortality pervading a seemingly endless, expansive univers in which we all live.
It is late in the evening and my kids are ready for bed. The apartment is cool with the only light from the moon, pouring through the window. The sounds of the city are faint and distant. I go now to their bedroom and begin to tuck them in. I kiss them each on the cheek with the youngest, my son, clinging on to my neck until he can kiss me back. I leave them with a nightlight, but before I go, I will sit by their bedside and tell them of the dragons in the garden.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 31.12.2009

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