1. Tollie's Garden Pt.1


    Date: 3/15/2016, Categories: Love Stories, Author: Sisyphus, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    and again he said, “To life and to our friendship.” It thrilled me to hear him say that—especially since before last night we had hardly spoken to each other. Lifting my glass, I felt like I had discovered something I didn’t know existed. I repeated his words, “To life and our friendship” and took a sip of wine, loving how he looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes and how he smiled. “I like it here,” I said, helping myself to the salad. “It’s cozy.” “Good. I’m glad. I love living here. It’s so perfect for me. I love that I can garden and write and it’s so quiet—just me and the birds and squirrels and I can bike into town to get some food. I don’t need much else.” “I don’t think I could do what you do. I’d be bored, I think. In fact, I know I’d be bored.” He nodded, chuckling. “Maybe one day you’ll find what you love and you won’t be bored, but I know what you mean. You’re going off to college in the fall. Maybe you’ll find what you love there. I hope so. You’re young.” “How did you find out what you love?” I asked, wishing he didn’t think I was young, even though I was. “I’m not sure exactly how I found out what I loved. It kind of evolved. I grew up on a farm about two hours from here called Rainbow’s End and I never went to school. I just worked with my dad and some of the other people who lived on the farm. We were a community and shared the land with a few other families. My mom and dad were the first ones to build a house. This man, John and his wife, Mildred gave ...
    my mom an acre of land. My mom and my sister Becky canned things and I always helped with that. I loved to read and so many books taught me and inspired me. Dad put me in charge of the chickens when I was nine and I started selling eggs at the farmers’ market and to neighbors--that’s where I learned math. We went to different farmers’ markets near where we lived and I just watched people. You can learn so much at farmers’ markets. That was the only school I had—that and the farm, and I started writing my thoughts down, sometimes in poems, sometimes in little stories. I was lucky that my parents trusted me and let me wander in the woods near our farm. I loved fishing. We had a big creek near our house and I caught trout and sometimes bass and learned from nature.” “So you were really free, weren’t you? I can’t imagine not going to school. I’m just so used to it.” He nodded. “Maybe that’s why you don’t know what you love. You didn’t have the chance to find out like I did.” I thought about what he said, but didn’t say anything. I watched him put down his fork and continue speaking. “I read an article recently about how many young people commit suicide and how rampant depression is among teens. It said that so many don’t do well in high school, and those who do well, go on to college, but over half of them drop out of college after two years, and even those who do graduate have difficulty finding jobs in the subjects they majored in and end up disillusioned with boring jobs and ...
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