Oregano & Lavender

For M

Lavender…bitchy queen.

Have you ever tried to grow a lavender plant?

Well—

It seems simple.

Full sun.

Drought hardy.

Well-draining soil.

Water—

Now here’s where we screw the pooch.

Lavender needs water.

But only so much water.

Too much,

she dies.

Too little,

she fries.

It’s really a predicament.

I know this because I’ve killed many.

But I keep buyin’ them.

I have this dream of becoming a lavender gardener and making things like lavender syrup for my cocktails—

But I never get there…

because—

well…

She’s a B.

Peachtree St. is under construction, which changed my typical commute.

As I was driving down Ted Turner, I saw a roadworker pulling a bucket out of a manhole.

One of my fellow bird patch cohorts was posted nearby, diverting traffic.

A homeless lady was panhandling in the road a few blocks after.

Hustlin’.

I smiled as I drove past.

Some kids walked down the sidewalk in their Cristo Rey uniforms, headed to Marta.

Headed home.

A whole life ahead.

They smiled and laughed as they walked past the Westin.

Dreamin’.

Hustlin’ and dreamin’.

It made my heart a little bit full in the cup—

knowin' that’s all of us.

We’re on totally different paths, you know?

Different struggles.

Different worries.

Different hopes.

Different loves.

But we’re all moving to the same beat.

Can you hear it?

(Engine rev) “Hey pretty baby with the high heels on—”

I can hear it.

More than that—

I can feel it.

I’m just dreamin’—

hustlin’ too.   

Bird patch worker by day.

Lavender murderer by night.

Hustlin’.

Dreamin’.

Funny—

I’m so fixed on lavender I miss what’s growin’—

and thrivin’—

and showin’ up.

Oregano.

Yes.

She just grows for me.

She comes back year after year.

“Here I am.”

“See me.”

But I don’t.

Her?

Her I take for granted—

beggin’ lavender to love me.

But the Oregano doesn’t care.

She grows anyway.

She just hustles.

She just dreams.