Trixie the cat
When I was a child, everyone in our family was assigned at least one chore. As the youngest, one of my jobs was to help in keeping the garden free of weeds, which included the spaces in the sidewalk surrounding the house and leading to a garden in back. My father had said that the trouble lies beneath where the roots eventually overcome the concrete causing it to crack if they weren’t removed in time. The possibility amazed me and I became attentive to the fact and aware of anything that seemed to fit Father’s claim.
Just as he said, our neighborhood had several broken sidewalks left eschew and at angles where weeds were allowed to grow in the spaces, especially the street around the corner with only one large house that had been vacant for as long as I can remember. My Grandmother avoided the treachery of walking there.
However perceived, I felt a small personal triumph for being responsible for something other than keeping my face and hands clean. Mother would fill the watering can mid-way with hot water to for me to pour into the spaces of the walk. And the following day Dad would remove the dead weeds with a crevice tool. But in time, they would re-appear, consistently and without fail.
As for the vacant old house around the corner, since the old man died, there was only grass and weeds in place of the stone walk that once led up to it. I guess some people may think it has always been that way.
~~~~~~ Truth is Beauty is Love ~~~~~~
In summer of 1957, I vacationed with my grandparents on their farm in Virginia. Mother had said little about the extraordinary experience that I was about to have. Words fail to convey some things. The story of that time may be one of the most significant contributions that was mine to give to my family.