Alive

I walk bearfoot outside, two plants in hand, and a basketfull over my arm. The sun is shining, and there is a slight breeze. Perfect day. No jacket needed. No shoes needed. The grass is growing, it smells wonderful outside. This is what it means to be alive. Just you and the elements. I grab a huge bag of dirt and start my hunt for pots for these plants. The grass is green and tender beneth my feet. It has been a long time since I have been allowed to walk bearfooted, and I feel every bump and curve in the dirt under the grass. I find what I'm looking for, and move to a place in the sun. It feels warm on my back, and gives me energy I haven't had in a long time. I start with rocks in the bottom of the pots. I have to go find the rocks, and dig them up since we don't seem to have any just lying about. It feels so good to go and dig around in the dirt. To feel the dirt under my fingernails, to feel the dirt in between my toes. It feels so good. I find the rocks, put them in the pots, and start pouring in the sandy bottom dirt. I tenderly, gently, convince the plants to come out of their plastic starter pots, and into a real pot, so they can grow, and get bigger. Some listen willingly, others listen a bit more stubbornly. They come out and into their new home. I cover them with wonderful rich dirt. It smells so good. So healthy. What more to life could one want? I finish moving them all. I get some water, and let them drink. They have been worked hard, and will likely go into shock. Hopefully they all will recover. I give them fresh, clean water to drink, and talk to them more. "You'll like your new home. It will give you plenty of room to grow with." I take them inside, and place them around the house. I take a deep breath and smell the fresh dirt, the smells of spring they brought in with them. I grab a book, and head back outside. This is what it means to be alive.