Grandpa's Field

Grandpa’s Field
Johnny bent down and wiped the thick dark soil from between his toes. His bare feet were calloused from working in Grandpa Samuel’s field of vegetables. He looked over his shoulder, back towards the farmhouse. He could see each step he had taken. The soft dirt held each footprint like a mold, forever there if it didn’t rain again. Ahead of him, Grandpa swung his hoe into the dirt breaking up the compacted soil and pulling out a weed. Johnny mimicked each swing. He wasn’t great at weeding but he was getting better. Johnny liked the rhythm of swinging the hoe, removing a weed and swinging it again. He could look back and see what he had accomplished. It felt good to know that something was going right.
Johnny’s wet t-shirt stuck to his back and his arms burned in the hot sun. He pulled off the shirt and swung it over his head just like Grandpa did. The movement cooled the cloth and felt good to his skin when he put it back on.
Johnny swung the hoe again into the earth and thought of his parents. Back home, they were probably fighting. Johnny didn’t really understand the problems they had with each other; he just wanted them to finish whatever they were going to do. He knew about divorce. His best friend Willy had endured years of fighting parents before they were divorced. Willy now got whatever he wanted. Christmas for Willy was great in some ways. The number and neatness of presents made all of Willies friends jealous. All Johnny wanted for this next Christmas was less fighting at home.
Grandpa had picked up Johnny at the beginning of summer and brought him too the one place where he could feel peace. This time it would be for the entire summer instead of a few weeks. He liked the visits. The air was clean and Grandma’s food was great except for her pancakes. Grandpa made it clear that Johnny was too work, to earn his keep and go to church. He liked church meetings but didn’t understand the preaching. The old pastor talked about God as if anyone or anything could solve the problems in Johnny’s life. He wasn’t sure if there was a God, but he prayed each night just in case.
The first morning of the visit, Grandpa and Johnny picked out the best hoe a boy could want. The handle was short, but not too short, the blade was sharpened to a keen edge, but not too sharp. Grandpa said that a sharp blade would nick and the edge would bend.
“Hoeing is a necessity on this farm Johnny”, he said. “Choose your hoe as you would choose your words. It’s like talking to people. If your words are too sharp, they cut. If there too dull, then the work becomes hard and boring.” Johnny wasn’t sure he understood that, but he practiced on Grandma. Instead of saying her pancakes were like cardboard he chose to ask for eggs for his next breakfast.
Grandpa reached the end of his row before Johnny did. His tall frame left a large shadow down the dirt row. Johnny worked his way towards him and soon was standing in it, his row completely hoed. Grandpa wiped his brow and beckoned to Johnny too sit and rest.
“Looks like you did a good job today. You’re learning how to garden.”
“Guess I am learning something Grandpa. But some things I haven’t figured out yet.”
“Like what exactly”?
“Well, like why mom and dad fight so much. Willy says that parents just do that. But they didn’t always fight.”
“No they didn‘t. I remember when they first met. It was down the road, at Smithies gas station. They sure were in love then. Then they went to college and got jobs in the city. And bought things. Best of all they had you.” Grandpa’s big smile made Johnny feel good.
“Well I have a question for you Johnny. Why do we hoe and pull weeds? Their plants just like these carrots we’re tending too.”
Johnny looked down the row he had completed. Near him, the dirt was still dark with moisture. At the far end where he had first started, it had dried to a lighter brown. He stood up and stepped nearer his Grandpa.
“Because we don’t eat weeds”?
“Some people do eat weeds. Any plant is a weed if it’s growing where you want something else to grow. Carrots are weeds in a corn field.”
“So Dad is a ‘corn’ and Mom is a ‘carrot’?”
“Or the other way around. Or maybe they started out wanting to grow the same things but over time they planted different things. They both like ‘growing’ you though. Don’t ever lose a minute of sleep thinking they don’t love you.” Grandpa swung his hoe over his shoulder and wiped his brow.
“I think its time to get some lunch. You hungry’?
“Yea, I think so. Grandpa I have one more question. Do you believe in God”? Grandpa stopped and looked around his field. He looked down at Johnny and smiled.
“Well. Yes I do. I have my own relationship with God. He is here everyday when I hoe the garden. He is in everything. We have an agreement, God and me. I do my part by hoeing and pulling weeds, he does his part by making it rain. Between the two of us, people get fed.” he rubbed Johnny’s head, “And little boy’s grow.”
Johnny swung his hoe over his shoulder just like Grandpa did and followed him back to Grandma and a hearty lunch.