Secret Garden

Courtesy of We Heart It

Courtesy of We Heart It

“Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high.”

I have a secret garden.

It’s a beautiful garden, with sunshine and flowers everywhere. There’s a stone path that winds itself through the different sections. It carries its traveller between the different flowers and trees. They all reach out, desperate to touch whoever walks by. There’s a water fountain that spits water to the sky and encourages you to make a wish.

This garden is the home for everyone and everything that I love. I walk around to make sure everyone enjoys their time spent in the garden. Hell, there’s even a gold statue of myself with glittering Emeralds for the eyes.

My family sits amongst the benches. Yankee chases butterflies, while Felix sunbaths. My two best friends toss coins into the fountain. Two other girls approach them, holding their coins, but not tossing them in.

The garden is beautiful, but the walls are not.

The walls are higher than you could even imagine. They’re cold and gray. They don’t block the sun from my garden, but they’re too high for the flowers to reach over.

Many people are put off by the walls. They start to get close, trying to read the tiny sign that says “Gardener needed.” But the closer they get, the higher the walls look.

Very few people make the journey to the other side. Very few people find the gate. But when they do, they get to enjoy my garden too. They get to feel the soft flowers brush against their skin as they wander deeper and deeper into the garden’s core. They get to listen to the babbling fountain. Every year, I walk around and give the people inside my best flowers.

There are benefits to getting inside my garden, but you have to find it first.

Although there are smiling people that I love in my garden, it can get lonely and overwhelming. My garden is lush, but there’s no one to help me water my flowers.

A couple people have come close, but just as I started to gain their trust and was on the verge of offering them their own silver watering can, they stomped on my flowers. Stomping isn’t allowed.

Someone sits on top of the walls. He’s allowed to come in to my garden; I’ve invited him many times, but he makes excuses. The pollen makes his eyes water; the fountain is too loud; that old tree is too wise.

But my flowers are beautiful.

He sits there, but the walls are too high for me to jump up and push him back over. So I ignore him. I do really well sometimes. Someone else enters for a visit and distracts me, or the sun blocks my view. But every so often, he waves to remind me he’s there.

He was the first one I actually offered a watering can to, but he liked sitting on the wall better.

He’s starting to fade away. The sun is brighter, and my statue is shinier.

He’s still there though. He hasn’t waved in a long time. Last time he did, I got really close to pushing him off.

It’s been a long time, but I’m starting to open the gates again. I peek my head out every so often, but no one is out there.

For now, I’ll have to water my flowers myself.


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