Saturday, 17 January 2015

of a lime

my story, of limes and love for my dad

i always placed the limes in a blue bucket at the school department, with a handwritten note inviting everyone to take some of my dad's luscious limes from his garden that bursts into lives. in the card, i always wrote: that when life throws you limes, make cakes or juice.

to me this was never a simple act of generosity, but an ode to my dad's kindness and love: for sharing means caring, so rather than seeing the limes wasted (for we always had abundance) i brought them to school.

i also acknowledged them of my dad's effort in producing organic, seedless limes which is very unique and not available in the market (but in that blue basket).

it is always beautiful day at home, and my favorite have always been the smell of freshly cut grass (after the rain). gardening is dad's passion. i dont think that i could do it, for i may not have the green hands.

a wise lady once told me that a gardener makes a great lover (it was andy's mom actually). a gardener will grow your heart with flowers and love, tend them with great patience and passion. unlike writers, they always keeping score and melancholic all the time.

when dad was away for holiday, he kept reminding me by phone or text to water his trees twice a day, which often fell to deaf ears, as i always busy with other things and forgotten about the task. i told him that was an unexpected virtue of ignorance, whenever he brought up the cases of my laziness and ignorance.

he never wants to let his garden goes into ruin that he always watering them almost every morning and evening, he also hires a gardener to cut grasses at every forthnight.

seeing the trees bear their fruits, it never fail to lift my spirit, i love you dad.