I'd never been much of a gardener. Every plant I had ever owned eventually died from something I did wrong, or didn't do at all. I had a tendency to stay away from living things that I couldn't talk to, because unlike humans, plants never told you if you were doing something wrong. So, naturally, when I was asked by my friend, Josh, to help him start a small vegetable garden in his backyard, I was hesitant.
I showed up at his house early in the morning. It was summer, and I hated sweating. "Just dig out this section, a foot down. And then we can get started on planting."
I was starting to get tired of my friend's bullshit. He had left me here, three hours ago, to finish digging this hole. Which, by the way, was way deeper than a foot. I sat down at the edge, and took a drink of my now warm water. My feet, though tired, started to dig into the hole. That's when I hit it. Something unremarkable at first, but as my foot tried to move the ground, that's when I realized something was off.
That was the first time I felt any motivation this whole day. I jolted up from my seat, grabbed the shovel and dug. I had to know what was hidden under this... dirt.
The box was heavy, deceivingly so. After uncovering it, I thrust it across the grass and plopped down in front of it. Good thing Josh was gone, because whatever was in this box was mine. I worked for it after all.
It took some manipulating, but the old box eventually came open. At that moment, I knew what my new passion would be. Gardening.
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