My neighbor David
Farmer's markets, connection, and becoming my mom
My neighbor David made me this garden box. I saw him woodworking on his porch awhile back, but was nervous to ask. I mustered up the courage and he was excited to bring my vision to life. The timing usually seems to work itself out.
We went to the farmer’s market this morning. Something you should know about me to preface this story is that I thoroughly enjoy connecting with the people and families that I’m exchanging with. It ignites a fire in my belly. I’ll remember the eyes of the farmer that sold me beautiful bok choy as I strip and wash it tonight.
I got a little carried away with the excitement of connection today and unknowingly came home with two bison dog bones for the price of one. Something that I usually groan and eye roll when my mom does it and I couldn’t help but rattle off twenty one questions at the husband and wife owners. Where are you from? How’s your day? How’d you get started? There’s something deeply sentimental and humbling about building a life and livelihood for your family. There’s also something deeply human that happens in an exchange at the market that becomes me. I’m not me anymore, but my mom. The woman I scoff at for creating connection in a connection deficit world thinking, “Leave them alone woman”. I understand now. Something I’m also getting familiar with saying almost everyday when I think of my parents.
It makes me smile to think of all the things I rejected only because I didn’t understand them. Like thinking I’m too much for asking my neighbor David to make me a garden box or becoming my mom at the farmer’s market with an insatiable hunger for knowing who you are. Sharing stories around the proverbial fire. Stories give meaning to life and I’ve a knack for hearing yours. What makes you tick? How’d you get here? What’s your alchemist journey? Why do you get out of bed in the morning?
