# 29 I, Isabel Scheherazade begin a front-seat story about Mom and me. It happens in Mimi’s Dirt Garden which is much more beautiful than you’d think something called a DIRT garden would be.

by storytellerisabel

So, it’s happened again, but this time it’s  Mom, not Dad, who shows up in my mind, or heart–or shows up SOMEWHERE.

I dunno. I’m just a kid; how do I know how this works? Magic, maybe?

Here’s the story:

Mimi has this Very Unusual outdoor space. She calls it a Dirt Garden Room. Remember those orange blossoms–the Trumpet Vines?–on the trellis we hid behind the day of Mom and Dad’s funeral? That’s one side of the Dirt Garden Room. Mimi asked me to take over the chore of raking it. I sweep and smooth the dirt into any pattern or design I want. On the other edges of the dirt space Mimi has geraniums in pots, wooden benches softened up with pillows, and painted chicken feeders filled with brown-eyed daisies.

I rake it right before bed and first thing in the morning.

So it’s a bright blue Saturday morning, and I’ve started a scroll and line design.  I spy some marks in the dirt. Marks that weren’t there when I raked last night.  Mouse tracks by the look of them.

A line of about fifty paw prints go from under the benches, around the flower pots, and almost up to the trumpet vines. And then they end! No more paw prints. I figure out right away that this mouse is nocturnal. I know the prints weren’t there when I finished a viney design last night. In fact, they cross right through my swirls. I squat down to take a closer look when something wondrous happens.

Truly wondrous.

I start talking out loud.  Well, that’s not wondrous; it’s what HAPPENS when I start talking, that is.

(Uh oh. I hear Mimi calling me. I’ll be back soon, gotta distract the twins so she can clip their nails.)

isabelwithlegupwriting.jpg

 Isabel Scheherazade, dirt-raker and twin-distractor

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