Starts
Examining the seeds to see if they’re malleable.
When PJ gets in my truck I make him meditate for at least three minutes. Today I simply asked him had he meditated.
He said, “I think I need to. Maybe five minutes”
He set a timer. Thirty seconds in, he said, “I need music.”
I have a mind that moves quickly, that jumps from one thought to the next, that is always examining. On my worst days, I play chess with people who don’t know that they’re playing, and I always pride myself on being seven moves ahead. It’s bullshit, really, the way I do this, the way I sometimes see people only for what they have to offer me.
The day before PJ said that he didn’t want to go to jail. To his credit, he faced the people he owed money. The only problem was that he didn’t have any money. And he didn’t have a job.
Where we drove could not be more than four miles from the French Quarter, but on this side of the Mississippi River, where the water sat for weeks, the streets look like something out of a third world country, still, almost 25 years later.
I pay money to people who let me keep plants inside a large greenhouse surrounded by empty lots. I pulled up to the front fence.
PJ opened his eyes. “You drove like that on purpose, didn’t you? Where are we?”
“They were working on the streets,” I said. “I had to drive across a couple lots.”
“What is this place?”
“It’s a greenhouse.”
“I know that. Whose is it?”
“It’s ours today. Grab that bag of seed starting mix.”
“Please?”
“Thank you.”
I opened the fence and turned on the water. PJ brought the bag of seed starting mix inside. I don’t know why God keeps telling me that I am supposed to teach PJ what I know. Maybe with his tattoos and record and caved in chest the universe knows that this is his destiny. Maybe this is our destiny. Today it is, anyway.
I show him how to take a plug tray with cells six by twelve and put the sterile soil into this.
“Does this make the seeds more malleable?” he asks.
“That’s not a proper use of that word. Clay is malleable. Your beliefs can be malleable. Seeds aren’t malleable.”
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly,” I say. “You’re right.”
“Sometimes I pretend to be stupid to see how people treat stupid people.”
“You’re good. I couldn’t even tell you were pretending.”
“See. You failed.”
PJ is a good worker. PJ is not a good listener. PJ works fast. This will be his downfall. But not on my watch, for even though I play with PJ I know the benefits of slowing down. I know what it means to plant hundreds of seeds. I know what it means to watch these come up, to know you have been a part of this.
PJ doesn’t want to go to jail. I don’t want to spend too much money. In this we have a connection. In this we get to slow down together and maybe next week he will see the growth of the seeds he started today.
