on commitment

Within the past year, my sister and brother-in-law had a child, as did two of my dear, dear friends. July will bring two more babies, with countless others announcing they're expecting.

Easter and Memorial Day came with travel plans for weddings, as will the upcoming Labor Day. On Saturday, someone I absolutely celebrate as a friend is asking the lady he loves to spend the rest of her life with him.

Mags seriously contemplated getting a dog, which (really!) is no small undertaking.

I, never really known as the one who embodies the let's-jump-in-and-not-look-back mentality (please don't call me non-committal. I've heard that more than enough), took a fairly significant leap, considering my frame of reference, and started a vegetable garden.

Yep, I'm calling it commitment. Those little plants look to me and the sky to meet pretty much all of their needs, and if I'm honest I admit that even the fact that they need water twice a day seems a tad on the demanding side. What if I want to leave for the weekend? Need to find someone to water. What if weeds start growing around them? They can't pull them out alone. Hail storm? Helpless mother. Lost a tomato plant today to a near-golf ball of hail that sliced it clean.

The thing about this commitment is that I love it. It doesn't scare me or exhaust me. I LOVE coming home from work and unwinding my mind and my heart from the day by doing what needs to be done in the garden. I love the fact that digging in the ground, side-by-side, created space for conversation with my mom, and that it has done the same for Michael and I. I love knowing that it comes with a huge potential for failure, and doing it anyway.

Small steps, right?