Every year, my mom plants an incredible garden full of flowers, veggies, and herbs. It's really something to behold. I've coveted her tomatoes and pole beans for years. She works tirelessly on it all, and she used to use a lot of what she grew for dinners for her and Dad.
But the year that Dad died, she had a hard time motivating herself to get it planted.
I remember her saying, "I just don't know who I'm planting it for."
In that moment, I remember getting on a soapbox and telling her that she should only need to plant the garden for herself. She shouldn't need Dad to take joy in digging her hands in the earth to create life from seeds. She shouldn't need Dad to relish in a sunny day outside in her haven. She shouldn't need Dad to cook it all up for dinner and taste the fruits of her labor.
What a load of shit I dumped on her that day.
Of course she needed somebody to want to plant the garden for. A large part of what makes us happy is knowing we've made somebody else happy. Without others to work for, work is simply not as fulfilling. Period.
That lesson is resonating with me very strongly tonight.
Reader, this week, the governor shut down indoor dining. I wallowed for about 5 minutes, and then I got to work. Because I have 17 crew members that I have to fight for now. And that invigorates me. It energizes me. It terrifies me, and it inspires me. Having people in our lives to work for is absolutely the reason we plant gardens and write music and build restaurants. Don't forget who we do it for. I'll see you next Monday. -Em