She leaned forward to uproot the bindweed; her unbound breasts swinging freely against her chest. Going braless allowed the air to cool her through her cotton shirt’s fabric.
She sat back on her heels, her gloves caked with dirt; tea stains on her shirt; a tangled mound of weeds lying at her knees.
She wobbled when she stood.
Tomorrow her doctors would dig into her soil in search of weeds. The uprooted knots would change her shape forever.
She yanked her shirt over her head and stared hard into the future—then moved to the vegetable patch to plant fresh seedlings.
Excellent, cancer , I assume, as weeds could lead to a greater piece on the jungle of our bodies connecting with nature. I hope you write that one too. Keep up the good work.
Just lovely.
Loved this
Therapeutic. A bold woman facing and grasping a future.