I have one goal today. Move the peony plant that’s slowly being strangled by the raspberry bush in the corner of the backyard. Peonies, if you don't know them, are big, brightly-colored flowers that bloom in spring. This one needs more room, more light. I’d meant to move it last fall and never got around to it, and here we are again. But this time I'm making the effort.
The shovel is out, the new sunny spot scoped out, but I keep getting distracted. Weeds that need to be pulled. A mass of prickly raspberry branches to pick through. I’m listening to a podcast called Family Secrets. Each week the interviewer introduces the program by saying it's about "the lies we tell each other; the lies we tell ourselves." And then she asks, "Do you have a family secret you'd like to share?"
I laugh as I lope around with my shovel. Oh lady, you wouldn’t believe how many I'd like to share. Here is half of one. I am 12 years old, 13, 14, and I am practically living at my best friend's house. The word practically might be the wrong word. But what is the word for spend every weekend with her family. Follow them along to church. Go on vacation with them. Have a place in their bathroom to put my toothbrush.
After school I take the bus home with my friend and spend the afternoons with her, praying praying praying as dinnertime looms closer that her mom will invite me to eat with them, a cruel voice in my head whispering, They don’t really want you here. You’re overstaying your welcome. But each night here comes the lovely mother, poking her head into my friend's bedroom, saying, Should I set a place for you tonight, Jody?
And no hint at all that I am a burden. In my memory she is always wearing an apron. When she hugs me, I can almost pretend that I am one of her daughters. Do the people who save our lives know that they have saved us?
I wish I had told this person. I meant to but never got around to it and now here we are, too late. But not too late to move this damn peony. My gardening book warns me not to bury it too deep, be careful with the roots.
I don't. I do.