Week 2 Word: SOIL
I WAS A FAT CHILD. The kids in school used me as their goat and took every opportunity to bully me as clumsy, poorly dressed, and eating ethnic food in a packed lunch different than everybody else. My classmates used every quirk as a new excuse to shut my neck in the locker or shove me down the stairs. My parents were Lebanese and that fact was obvious more often than I could bear. I never asked friends home for fear they would notice some family practices that embarrassed me. My defense was long distance running and I practiced to the point of exhaustion until I could outlast them all.
My father kept a big vegetable garden to feed our family of four and I was required to help. Every year at spring planting, the product of the family outhouse was spread on the ground to enrich the soil. I tried to complain but my father insisted while I threw up in the bushes. There was no gardening in my life from that day on.
Fifty years later I’ve realized that some childhood memories stay with you forever. One fact remains very clear: No matter how far you travel or how fast you go, you will never be able to outrun your father.