A golden thread runs between my mother’s garden and mine. Earth beneath fingernails carries legacy and heritage.

Cauliflower, curry leaf, kangkong; my childhood and hers bloom together.

New migrants, tamarind, peppercorn, and bilimbi, tracing matriliny to my grandmother’s garden, will weather the winter and see how it goes.

This post was written for the YeahWrite #469 Microprose grid. Click the badge to read other entries. Don’t forget to vote for your favourites!

5 Comments on “Roots”

    • There’s a larger essay about gardening and heritage that I’ve been toying with for too long. One day I’ll get around to writing it properly!

  1. Your language is so beautiful. That first line drew me in right away. I don’t have the visceral connection to plants and gardens and growing things that you do, but you made me wish I did.

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